Teen Titans Star Wars crossover: A Galaxy Far, Far Away
by Nitebreaker
Summary: The rebel alliance is in serious trouble, with the Dark Side of the Force growing stronger by the day. If only there was someone the few remaining Jedi Knights could call upon...or maybe there is. A Teen Titans / Star Wars crossover...what might have been, or might yet be. A collaboration between Edgar H. Sutter,Sharnorasian Empire and myself. I couldn't have done this without them
1. Chapter 1

Teen Titans / Star Wars: Chapter 1: A Galaxy Far, Far Away.

...

 _A collaboration between myself and Edgar H. Sutter. We do not own either the Teen Titans nor any of the Star Wars franchise._

 _..._

 _A long time ago, in a galaxy far far away..._

 _STAR_ _WARS_

 _it is a period of civil war. rebel spaceships, striking from a hidden base, have won their first victory against the evil galactic empire._

 _Far away, in another time and place, there exist five young heroes, the teen titans, who, unbeknownst to them, will have a part in the coming civil war._

 _They will soon be called to this galaxy by a mysterious power, to help the Jedi Knights who once protected the Galaxy from evil, and restore it to peace and balance once again..._

 _..._

Chapter 1: A Galaxy Far, Far Away

The bluebird flew past the T-shaped building, angling around it as it shone in the sun. The bird's eyesight didn't allow it to see within, as the glare from the sun shining on the reflective glass windows was too great, and it probably wouldn't have been interested if it could have. Still, it might have taken notice of the odd orange-skinned humanoid even then cooing over what had to be the biggest grub in the world.

Unseeing, the bird flew around the building…and a shadow descended upon it. It had a brief view of the hawk overhead, and then it knew no more.

Within the Titans' headquarters, unaware of the drama played out outside, Raven was reading one of her ancient books. Beast Boy walked past, and crinkled up his nose. "Man, Rae, I don't see how you read those. They smell so…so… _musty_."

"That's because they _are_ musty, and I thank Azar I don't have as sensitive a nose as yours. _I_ don't see how you play video games constantly, but I respect that you do. I expect you to respect _my_ interests, as well." Garfield just shook his head. Same old Raven. She'd never change. Not that he'd want her to.

"Hey, grass stain, are you in, or not?" Cyborg was already seated on the couch, holding out the controller, _Mutant Ninja Monkey Racing_ already loading on the big screen TV / monitor. Beast Boy sighed, but very quietly. He was already tired of _Mutant Ninja Monkey Racing_ but for some reason, it never got old for his biomechanical friend.

He barely had time to get seated when Robin appeared in the doorway. "Titans! Trouble!"

Surprised, Garfield threw the controller up into the air, juggled it between his hands, and finally caught again in a two handed grip. "Dude! Don't BELLOW like that! I nearly-*"

"No time! Mumbo Jumbo's at the Museum, and you know with Mumbo, he's not there for the tour! Go!" The others leaped to obey.

…..

"Aaaaand, now, the AMAZING Mumbo will saw this volunteer from the audience into three equal pieces! Watch and be amazed!" With all the flourish of a born showman, the evil magician proceeded to saw his box-up victim, a security guard who'd been in the wrong place at _definitely_ the wrong time, into three pieces; his assistants (all of whom bore a striking resemblance to him; for some reason, nobody noticed this) immediately wheeled the pieces of the original box away, and moved them back and forth, in and out, transposing them. Several people, those not terrified into silence, groaned, and not in despair; this was the oldest trick in the book.

Mumbo's "audience" consisted of the Museum visitors and security guards, all of whom had been tightly secured with knotted-together handkerchiefs. "I love a captive audience," chortled Mumbo, even as he prepared for the second part of his "trick." More groaning; that had to be the oldest _pun_ in the book. Mumbo opened each of the boxes individually. The frightened face of the security guard, mouth gagged with more knotted-together handkerchiefs, stared back from one, with his torso in another, and his legs in a third. "Now! The moment you've aaall been waiting for!" His assistants wheeled the boxes back together, and Mumbo tapped on the top one with his wand. "Aaaand! Now! Presto chango!" He opened the top box, revealing the man's terrified but still alive face. "And, as you see, my volunteer is unharmed!" He opened the middle box.

A set of legs, from the knee down, was revealed. "Er, no, that's not right." He closed the boxes again. "Alakazam!" Now the top box held the man's torso. "No, that can't be right. I'm almost positive I put his head in there."

"Heads or tails, we know where _you're_ headed!" Robin's voice cut through the museum. "Titans! Go!"

"Now, now, I've all the volunteers I need for this trick," said Mumbo calmly. He rolled his top hat down his arm and released a cloud of attack pigeons into Robin and Starfire's faces, slowing them down. Beast Boy untied the "captive audience," and shooed them out of the building. Some of the younger ones seemed a little reluctant to go: leave a magic show _and_ a superhero battle, all in one? Did it get any better than this?

While her teammates were pressing their attack, Raven glanced around. Mumbo might be a born showman, but he never put on a "show" for free. There had to be something here of value, or else _he_ wouldn't have been here.

Her gaze was focused on a large red crystal, in a reinforced glass display. Mumbo's "magic show" had taken place here, in this room, where the crystal was. Something told her it was important.

Cyborg leveled his sonic cannon at Mumbo, only to have his sonic beam vanish into Mumbo's hat. "Alakazam!" Mumbo swiveled the hat around, pointing it like a weapon, and redirected Cyborg's sonic blast onto Robin and Starfire. Fortunately for Robin, Starfire took the brunt of the blast, being hurled back against the wall, slumping down to the floor, momentarily stunned.

An enraged Robin threw a cloud of stun disks Mumbo's way, forcing the villain back. Raven looked around for what she could levitate; after all, it *was* a museum. Almost everything in sight was too valuable to just throw.

There. The water fountain. Perfect.

Dark energy tore the fountain away from the wall, but deliberately did not disconnect it from the water pipes. She then directed a water stream at Mumbo. She smirked as she thought of the plan: one thing the dapper Mumbo couldn't deal with was getting his tuxedo wet.

He dodged the water stream, and Raven saw to it that it followed him. On the defensive, he rolled behind the display of the curious red crystal, and Raven obligingly directed the water stream at his new position, all the while readying some pieces of the drapes, preparing to tie him up with them.

The water stream hit the display case, which immediately shattered, setting off yet another alarm. Raven did a double take: she knew the simple stream of water wasn't powerful enough to break the glass case even if it had been ordinary glass.

Then her eyes widened. The case had been broken open _from within_.

Later, Raven could never say exactly what she heard / sensed coming from the strange, now-glowing crystal. It was like the ancient mystical artifacts of her home dimension, Azarath, only much more powerful. Those artifacts had had personalities, of sorts: they tended to reflect the minds and spirits of those who'd used them in the past.

Now, she was sensing a wordless _feeling_ , a feeling of danger, of desperation, a sense of being overwhelmed, a feeling of _imbalance_ , an imbalance that needed to be corrected or….or else everything was threatened. All worlds. Everywhere. And she could tell from looking at them, that none of her other friends felt or sensed anything unusual, though Robin was looking warily at the crystal, noticing its glow.

 _Was this crystal waiting for me all along?_ She wondered. _If so, why?_

Robin had finally managed to wrap his line around Mumbo, who seemed to've lost interest in the fight. Instead, he was staring intently at the red, glowing crystal….almost as if he sensed something strange from it, too.

Raven could sense something building up, some sort of charge, like a thunderstorm. "Everybody! Get back! That crystal's gonna blow!"

The Titans, pulling on a captive Mumbo, moved towards the exit…not fast enough.

The crystal began to glow ever more brightly, and Raven could swear she could hear actual voices emanating from the stone, staticky, like a bad telephone connection: "… _Force…strong…imbalance…need help…Obi Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight of the Old Republic…anyone, if you fight for the Light….students of the Force… need your help..."_

And with that, the crystal exploded into a universe of crimson light.

…

Far, far away from Jump City: a young woman finished recording an urgent message, encrypting it into the R2 droid in front of her. "Now go," she ordered. "Get to the escape pods. Find him. And above all, don't let yourself be captured." She checked her blaster and slipped away, into an access way between the ship's bulkheads, one that would lead her, hopefully, into a better position to engage the stormtroopers she could even then hear boarding the ship.

At that exact moment, a golden protocol droid designated C3PO came rushing up. "R2? Where have you been?" _Bleep, blip beeeeep, boop_ , went the R2 unit. "What do you mean, secret mission? And what was that about escape pods?" More bleeping, booping, and squeaking. "Oh, no. Those things are far too unreliable-*" A blaster bolt narrowly missed him, coming from behind. He could hear the sounds of battle: blasters firing, cries of pain… "On second thought, yes, let's get to the escape pods, by all means." And the R2 droid led him away. As they got in the pod near the end of the Ship, 3PO muttered "I'm going to regret this..." The stormtroopers ignored them; they had been instructed to look for one very special individual. Everybody else was expendable.

Just as the pod ejected, a bright flash of red light flashed in the hallway, and the alien warrior princess Starfire came back to her senses, seeing all the chaos around her. She was standing in a small corridor, with the sounds of battle coming from a short distance away. As eager as she was to go into combat, she first tried to check her T-communicator to see if she could reach her friends, but found that its signal had gone dead. _I would rather hope that I shall not soon join it_. Then, rising up as far in the air as she could, there in the confines of what seemed to be a ship, she saw the firefight going on. A large group of white armored soldiers were blasting a smaller group of people in large helmets, and the helmeted guys were losing. Starfire had paused for a moment, unsure of where she was or what was going on, but, being a warrior, and seeing that the helmeted unarmed people were getting gunned down, the hot-blooded princess streaked into the fray.

As the white-armored troopers marched in, virtually unopposed, an unexpected bolt of energy took the first one completely by surprise, and he was knocked back into the others. The others behind him directed their attention to this newest threat: a strange-looking orange-skinned female, who began pelting them with more plasma bolts. She flew forward, green eyes glowing with fury against the troopers, who found themselves helpless against her starbolts. They tried to get her in their sights, but she dodged the shots easily, and didn't seem to be overly inconvenienced by what few did hit her.

 _"Who's she?"_ one of troopers demanded, over the comm link.

 _"No idea. She doesn't match any profile we've—oof!"_ A starbolt slammed him up against the bulkhead.

 _"Wait! I know who she is!"_

 _"You do? Well, spit it out!"_ More starbolts were incoming, and the warrior girl uttered a fierce war cry, ripped a stanchion loose from its moorings, and threw it at them, as easily as a man might throw a stick.

 _"She's the enemy!"_ A starbolt exploded to his right, propelling him off his feet.

 _"Oh, brilliant!"_ The sergeant motioned for his troops to take cover, and return fire. But the strange girl wasn't about to let them regroup, and launched herself towards them….

…only to slam onto the floor, halfway to them. As they watched, she struggled, with all her formidable strength, to get up, but an invisible *something* pressed down on her again, literally _smashing_ her down into unconsciousness.

The sergeant turned to the figure he knew would be there, the tall figure in dark robes, whose face was carefully and completely concealed by his breather-mask. "Lord Vader! I, I offer my humble gratitude to you for helping us!"

The dark figure turned to him, and the sergeant knew a moment of fear. Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, was not a very forgiving person. It would not be totally out of character for him to decide to make an example of an incompetent sergeant.

For a moment, Vader's gaze looked him over, and the sergeant felt as though that unreadable gaze could see far more than just the surface. It was rumored that Vader could determine a man's loyalty to the Empire—or lack of it. Those who showed a significant lack…. "Sergeant. See to it that your men scour these corridors. You know who you are looking for. Find her and bring her to me."

"What of this one, my lord?"

Vader paused, considering. Then, "Secure her in Force-shackles. I'll deal with her later."

At that moment, three stormtroopers rounded the corner, hustling a young, dark haired woman towards their master. As ordered, she was unharmed, but she'd obviously put up a fight. There had been five stormtroopers, and the armor of the ones that remained showed signs of blaster fire. Darth Vader inclined his head. "Senator Organa. A pleasure, as always."

…..

Raven gradually came to, opening her eyes first into slits, then fully open. There was something…odd about the place where she found herself. Even before opening her eyes, she could sense not only the presence of someone out of the ordinary, but also a *difference* in the context of where she was. Without knowing exactly how she knew, she sensed that she was no longer on Earth, and perhaps no longer in the universe of Earth.

So where was she?

The place didn't feel like Azarath, the pocket universe where she'd grown up, nor did it feel like any of the other dimensions she'd traveled to. Most of those had had a strong magical content. What she was sensing here was a power, yes, but not magic as she understood it. But whether magical or not, it was still a power, a force to be reckoned with. And she was not at full strength.

"Ah. Good. You're awake," said a voice over to her right. With an almost audible creaking of her neck muscles (how long had she been out, anyway?), she managed to turn her head towards the source of the voice.

She seemed to be in a small mud or stucco'd hut, decorated in what she could tell was "early bachelor" style: two comfortable but worn looking chairs over by what resembled a small fireplace, bookshelves cluttered with books and small artifacts that had obviously caught the attention of whoever lived here, a table over by a window, still with dishes on it from the last meal, an area clearly devoted to cooking, or in some way preparing food, and…

…a man, standing by a low chest, just then straightening up, turning to her. "How are you feeling?"

"Where am I? Who are you?" Raven said as she raised herself off the couch, only to feel a bit dizzy when she did so. "Easy there, young lady." the old man soothed "I don't know what happened to you out there, or where you might've come from, but you're lucky I found you before the desert got to you. I was just having a walk outside, and I found you passed out."

"Desert?" She put her hand to her head, not only to steady herself, but also in an attempt to summon her powers, to determine where she was. The vaguest whisper told her only "not Earth." _Yes_ , she thought to herself, ' _a nasty tumble' is a good way of putting it._

 _A nasty tumble completely off the planet._

She sat up further, with his assistance, and she focused what she had of her preternatural senses on him. Yes, definitely more than he appeared to be.

But also, in a strange way, his was a somehow _soothing_ presence. It reminded Raven of Azar, the high priestess of Azarath, who'd taken her in, against the wishes of the populace, who feared the darkness in her soul.

Quite rightly feared it, as it turned out.

This man also radiated a sense of inner calm, of peace and serenity. But she could also sense that he was no stranger to violence. Like many truly kind men, although he sought out peaceful solutions, he was nonetheless more than prepared to unleash hell on Earth, or wherever they were, especially in the defense of the defenseless.

"Where you are is Tatooine, a planet in the Arkanis sector, near Rodia. Far from the main territory of the Empire that rules it controls." Raven gave a confused look.

"Um, what?" She asked as she thought _Great. He'd mentioned a planet, and my knowledge of astronomy is limited. Yet another time I wish Starfire was here.._.

He looked at her, puzzled, "Are you unaware of any of that? None of that seemed familiar to you. You must be from very far away, then, Miss, uhm…" he paused while his eyes narrowed, "Raven, is it?"

Raven's eyes widened "Wait, how did you know my name?" said Raven suspiciously, feeling a bit stronger now. Stronger, yes, but not in quite the same way as she was accustomed to. Surreptitiously summoning up her powers, she raised herself up and said, "Look. You seem to have me at a bit of a disadvantage. Evidently, you know more about me than I know about you. Who are you, and how is it that you know my name? There were some friends with me; where are they? And my communicator? I'd really appreciate some straight answers, if you please." She tried to keep herself from getting _too_ aggressive; he evidently _had_ rescued her from _something_ , and she sensed no deceit or evil within him.

But something about this _place_ seemed to bring out the worst in her. What could that be?

He held out his hands in a defensive fashion. "I assure you, I meant you no harm, I merely needed to know a bit more about you a little faster. I didn't mean to pry. Believe me, when you've lived as long as I have, well, let's just say it pays to be cautious. I'm sure you can understand. And I found you alone in the desert; there was nobody with you. And, somehow, the name _Raven_ just seems to suit you. As for who I am, my name is Ben. Ben Kenobi."

 _Kenobi_ , she thought. _Kenobi? That sounds…familiar_...

….

Cyborg came back to full consciousness in a sand dune, next to a rocky outcropping. His self-repair circuits buzzed; he'd taken some damage. But it didn't seem to be anything he couldn't handle.

Now where was he? And where were the others? He tried his internal communicator, only to receive a "no service" message. Well, okay. He'd obviously been transported somewhere far away; this didn't look to be anywhere around Jump City. It was possible he was out of his coverage area.

He activated his radar, looking for signs of life. His own inbuilt sensor arrays sought radio and microwave transmissions. He found surprisingly few.

But there were some. He picked himself up and started off towards the nearest source of such signals at a fast jog.

It looked to be a huge, worn-looking vehicle equipped with treads to move over the ever-present sand. It was gigantic, reminding him of cruise ships back home, but he doubted any sort of vehicle wishing to attract tourists would be allowed to look so run-down. No, definitely a vehicle designed and used for pure practicality. All around it, he could see small, hooded figures doing some sort of mechanical work. Mechanical work. Well. That was right up his alley. Maybe, in exchange for his help, they'd help him find his friends.

He stood up, just coming over the sand dune, waving his arms and shouting. The small, hooded figures looked up…

….

Beast Boy woke up and was immediately sorry he'd done so. "Okay," he mumbled to himself, "I can't be dead; I hurt too much." Whatever had happened had served to make him quite sick, and he spent an altogether unnecessary and totally unpleasant few minutes barfing up the remains of last night's tofu pizza. He hated to see it go. It had been such a _good_ pizza.

Once his stomach felt reasonably stable, he sat up and took stock of his surroundings, automatically looking around for the others.

They weren't there, but close by was a small round hut, apparently made of something like concrete or a similar substance. He could se partially around front, and gasped as he caught sight of what had to be the _coolest_ vehicle he'd ever seen: some sort of ground-effect open-air car that was just * _itching_ to have a green-skinned person in the driver's seat. _But it's not mine,_ he thought, even as he went over in his mind as to just who would have such a futuristic vehicle in such a rustic seeming settlement.

Hm. Nobody, that's who.

A suspicion began to form in the back of his mind…but no, that just couldn't be.

 _Well, I may as well go introduce myself to the people here, he thought. Don't want them to think I'm sneaking around, maybe trying to boost their…their…whatever it is._

 _Much as I'd kinda like to._

….

Robin awoke in an alleyway, completely disoriented from whatever that light had been. It hardly surprised him to learn he wasn't in the museum anymore. In fact, from the temperature and lack of humidity, it felt more like a desert of some sort. He got up, and took stock of where he was. It looked rather nondescript, reminding him of some places in the Middle East, except some things looked a bit different from anything he was used to. The trash cans, despite looking dirty and banged up, as trash cans the world over would normally be, looked to be rather high-tech devices…and the doors along the alley had strange blinking panels on the side.

Where were his friends? He had to see if they were alright. Checking his T-communicator, he was annoyed when he saw it wasn't working. _Great_ , he thought. _I have no idea where I am, my friends are lost, and this damn thing isn't working. Guess I'll have to do this the hard way._

Stepping to the mouth of the alley, he was shocked by what he saw: What appeared to be a small town of strange beings, casually traversing the streets. There were what had to be alien creatures of a type he'd never seen before, in spite of all his trips into space with the Titans, and a small abundance of robotic beings, too. Some were riding in carts that were drawn by strange beasts, and some were driving by in floating car-like constructs.

Despite being the student of the Dark Knight, and a Teen Titan, Robin was temporarily stunned by all this, and ducked back into the alley without being seen. After catching his breath, he thought more clearly: _Obviously, I'm not in Kansas anymore. So now what? Where could the other Titans be? If Star were here, she might know, and…frankly, it'd be good to see her again anyway... gotta focus, can't get too distracted this, it'll just make things more difficult if I do._

Right at that same moment, a drunk Ishi Tib, who wasn't looking where it was going, bumped into a stormtrooper captain just outside the alley. The other two stormtroopers who'd been with the captain quickly surrounded the green alien. "What's the big idea, greenie? You think you can just trample all over an Imperial officer?" The Tib tried to explain itself, but, not speaking Basic, what it said was lost on the troopers. If they cared in the first place.

"We seem to be having a bit of a problem with communication," said the captain. "But it's our duty as representatives of the Empire to teach this greenie some respect. Men? Perhaps a little of that communication that requires no translation?" And the two stormtroopers proceeded to kick the Tib, hitting it with the back ends of their blasters, kicking it while it was down.

Upon seeing this (even though he couldn't hear the inter-helmet communications), Robin debated with himself whether to help or not. _Don't get involved, don't get involved, don't get involved…if I do, it'll cause trouble I don't need. Things are clearly different here, I don't need to get involved, because if I do, I may not find the others. Just don't get involved..._ But then, a particularly vicious kick brought a squawk of pain from the Tib. " _S_ crew _this 'not getting involved' stuff._

He flew out of the alley, hitting the troopers with his Bo-Staff, knocking two of them back against the wall of the building. "You know," said the strange looking human in red and green, "your mothers really should have taught you better manners."

"Just who the Kriff are you, kid?" snarled the captain.

"I'm the kid who just beat your guys. And I don't like it when people gang up on people who're down." Robin turned to the alien—for so it must be, he reasoned. "G'wan. Get outta here." He doubted the creature could understand him, but everything understands _opportunity_. The short alien scuttled away as fast as it could, mumbling what could have been either words of gratitude or curses under its breath. Or possibly both.

Then one of the troopers scrambled to his feet, his hands going for his blaster. "Have a taste of this, twerp!" But as fast as he was, Robin was faster, knocking the blaster out of his hands, and throwing him back up against the wall with bone-jarring force.

The captain shouted, "I'll teach you some respect, you little punk!" he said, as he grabbed his own weapon, turning it on Robin.

But fast as he was, Robin's bo-staff was faster. The concussion from the impact knocked the captain out, and he fell over by his men. Robin dragged them into the alley and removed their helmets, seeking the communications devices he knew had to be in there. There were some rather sophisticated radio tech, as well as a heads-up display inside, and he took the bulky helmets, removed the radios, and broke them. Then he noticed a small, circular device that the captain had on his belt. Popping the back open, Robin found it, too, was a Comm device of some sort, but far more advanced-looking than the radios. More advanced, even, than his own T-Cell. He decided to hold onto it. _Hm. Might come in handy_ , he thought. From what he had seen since materializing in the alley of this strange place, he could tell two things: one, he was clearly not on Earth—the obvious aliens and the strange animals pulling carts were indicators of that-, and two: evidently, this was a world where martial law had been declared. Robin had an innate disliking for martial law. People shouldn't have to be _afraid_ of the authorities.

But clearly that was the case here. And of course, these three would no doubt report him when they regained consciousness. He'd relieved them of their communications devices, but unless he relieved them of their lives, he couldn't keep them from making a full report. Even a verbal report would compromise him. A masked teenager wearing red and green wouldn't be hard to find. So. Disguise time.

There; a clothes line, strung between the buildings, with a hooded robe over it. Robin hated stealing, especially from those whom it looked like could ill afford it, but necessity is what it is. He resolved to return the cloak as soon as he realistically could.

But he knew there was more to a disguise than just putting on a different set of clothes. So, ever prepared, he returned to the alley where he'd first materialized, and took some items from his utility belt, and, with them, using a small foldable mirror, altered the shape and contours of his face, using some dry blonde dye on his normally black hair, and a set of contact lenses that not only changed his eye color, but also masked his retina patterns. Now. With the addition of the robe, he was as prepared as he could be.

Now to find his friends.

He stopped and considered. Okay, this wasn't Earth. Which meant they had been teleported across at least interplanetary distances, and maybe farther.

With that came the question of _how_ to find his teammates. They could be anywhere. His phone wasn't working; either it was broken, or something here was preventing it from functioning. He couldn't use it to track the others. He had seen some computer terminals and tablets being used by the inhabitants here, so clearly world wasn't without its technology, and the soldiers had proven that too. But could he manage somehow to hack into and use such technology without being traced? Perhaps it would be better not to risk it. At least not until he knew more.

So. Where would a good source of non-internet related news be?

Then his ears caught the sound of revelry from a seedy establishment down the street.

Of course.

…


	2. Chapter 2: Making Acquaintances

Teen Titans / Star Wars: A Galaxy Far, Far Away: Chapter Two: Making Acquaintances

…

 _A collaboration between Edgar H. Sutter and myself. Neither of us owns any part of either franchises._

… _._

Chapter Two: Making Acquaintances

"Tatooine," Raven said, mulling the unfamiliar word over in her mind. It rolled off the tongue easily enough, she guessed.

Raven had come to in the hut of a hermit who called himself Ben Kenobi. That name, _Kenobi_ , sounded familiar, and for a reason: the "voice" she'd heard issuing from the red crystal back in Jump City, when they were called to thwart Mumbo Jumbo's "command performance" in the city's museum, had mentioned a Kenobi, but that name had been "Obi Wan Kenobi." There had to be a relationship. "Tatooine," she said again. "And that's a planet. A planet I'm currently on."

"That's correct. I don't know how you got here, but I can only surmise your arrival here was as much surprise to you as it was to anyone else, judging from your comments."

She nodded. He'd filled her in on the location, astronomically speaking, of the planet: Arkanis sector, near Rodia…wherever that was. The names of the planets and stars had meant nothing to her.

Nor did her mention of planets familiar to her produce any sign of familiarity in him. What was a "Mars," anyway? Polaris? Altair? Sorry; never heard of either.

It was rapidly becoming evident to Raven that, wherever she was, she was certainly nowhere near where she had been. She must have been transported across cosmic distances, at the very least.

But where were the others? Had they, too, been transported? And if so, where were they?

Were they even on the same planet? With a sinking sensation in her chest, Raven realized there was nothing to say they all had to be on the same planet. Or the same star system. Or the same galaxy. Or the same universe, even.

And, for all she knew, she might've easily been the only one teleported. It had been apparent that she'd been the only one to hear the "voice" from the strange crystal; maybe she'd been the only one to be shot across creation as she evidently had been. "I was with four other people, friends of mine. Do you know anything about….anybody else appearing as I did?" Baby steps, Raven.

"No, but that's not that unusual. We're a little off the beaten path here, on Tatooine. Most of the time, that's a good thing. But I haven't heard of anyone else just appearing." He shrugged. "That may not mean anything, however."

The two of them were sitting at the small table by the window in Ben Kenobi's hut. It really wasn't as primitive as a first glance would seem to indicate: Raven could see devices she didn't recognize, in the area designated for food preparation, and, over by the bookshelf (bibliophile that she was, her hands practically ached with the desire to glance through them), a terminal sat, its face towards the wall, with a desk in front of it. And, besides ordinary books, there were objects on the shelf, arranged in such a way as to give the impression of some sort of library-like order. They could easily be a form of e-book reader, or perhaps something stranger.

Ben Kenobi had prepared a hot beverage that was almost, if not exactly, completely unlike any coffee Raven had ever tasted. She made a face as she sipped it; she didn't wish to seem ungracious. Perhaps it was an acquired taste. "And…this isolation is good because….?"

Ben hesitated. Then, "Well, the political situation isn't easily described. We have an Empire, forged just a few years ago under a senator named Palpatine. At the time, it seemed like a good idea: there was war and general chaos throughout the known region, and whoever was in charge needed to be able to make decisions quickly, to act rapidly, without having to wait for drafts to pass through the legislature. And, at first, it seemed to work.

"But lately, the Empire has become…how to best express this…perhaps a bit too _enthusiastic?_ —yes, that's perhaps the best way to put it—a bit too enthusiastic about enforcing its laws. And those laws have been vastly expanded to include a great many actions previously legal. There's a saying I heard once: 'That which is not specifically forbidden is mandatory.' That pretty well sums it up. So people are becoming…distrustful of the authorities. Often with good reason."

She studied him over her cup of not-coffee. "You sound as though you've had some first-hand experience with such 'enthusiasm.' Or am I wrong?"

He paused, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, looking downward, thinking. For a moment, she thought he wasn't going to answer, but finally, he said, "I suppose you could say that. In another life, I…experienced…some of that 'enthusiasm.'

"And that's why I keep to myself these days. One man cannot fight the Empire; it would take an army. An army I don't have. So I've resigned myself to living here, and doing what I can, especially for those in need."

She could sense there was a lot more he was not telling her, but decided to let that part go right then. But there was one question she felt the need to ask right then. "Then tell me one thing: immediately before being transported here, I clearly heard the name, 'Obi-Wan Kenobi.' And I note your last name is 'Kenobi.' Is there, by some chance, a connection between the two of you?"

Now he looked up at her, his own dark eyes meeting hers, suspicion evident on his face. He raised an eyebrow. "You might say that."

….

Starfire came to inside a heavily reinforced cell. The first thing she noticed was that her hands were shackled in some sort of cuffs that completely covered them…and that she couldn't blast through or remove. And there was some sort of band around her head, around her eyes. She tried to focus her eye-beams onto the shackles, but the strange headband, while it didn't inhibit her vision, blocked her optical beams completely.

 _But I am not without my strength,_ she thought. She went up to the door and raised her enshackled hands, preparing to smash it open….

….and immediately, an agonizing pain shot through her, and she felt her strength fade, drawn off by some mechanism of the shackles. _Alright._ Actually, she'd halfway expected this.

Princess Koriand'r of Tameran, also known as Starfire, scowled, and threw herself back on her narrow, hard bunk. But inwardly, she smiled. She had no doubt she was being watched, and now she'd played the part of the newly-awakened, frustrated prisoner, who discovers herself helpless. But Starfire was not helpless. Far from it.

There were always other ways of doing things. Her time with Robin had taught her that.

Her attention was attracted by a sound like a moan from a cell next to hers. Going up to the door, she looked out into the corridor as far as she could, first one way, then the other. "Hello? Is someone there?"

The voice came from the cell to her left. It was a woman's voice, very weak. "W-who's there?"

"I am Starfire, of Tameran. Who are you?"

A long wait. Starfire could sense the person gathering her strength. What had happened to her, anyway? "I…I'm Leia Organa, of Alderaan. What…what are you doing here? Are you a prisoner, too?"

"Yes. Excuse me, but what is this place? Where am I?"

"You mean you don't know?"

"No. The last thing I remember was fighting the Mumbo. Then, an explosion. I found myself aboard a starship, with some men in armor killing people. I fought them, but the tall one in dark robes did something….and I woke up here. Are you hurt?" Starfire was no stranger to the battlefield, and knew the sounds an injured person makes. Her unseen neighbor was making such sounds.

"I'm…alright. Just…sore. A little 'enhanced interrogation,' was all. It always…takes it out of me. But I'm fine. Now. Who did you say you were? And from where?"

…

"….can't tell you how grateful I am to all of you, Mr. and Mrs. Lars, and Luke." Beast Boy was even then seated in the Lars' dining area, eating a particularly tasty, and wholly vegetarian (though probably not non-dairy—he chose not to think about that) concoction that Luke's Aunt Beru had come up with. For some reason, he'd been hesitant about just going up and introducing himself to them at first, but he couldn't think of any reason not to.

They had proved to be remarkably understanding and accepting, even though they had no idea how he'd come to be where he was. They'd described the planet, the system, and the environs around Tatooine's homestars, but none of it was familiar to Beast Boy, whose own limited knowledge of astronomy was useless here. With some amusement, he noticed the young one, their nephew, Luke, trying hard not to stare at him. It wasn't hard to guess why.

Owen refilled Garfield's cup of the hot beverage that Gar guessed passed as coffee here. "Oh, the pleasure is ours. Way I figure it, you must be from one of the caravans headed for Mos Eisely. That's the closest town. You must have gotten separated from the rest, and, most probably heat-stroked out. I've seen it happen before. That's especially true for aliens not used to conditions here. What planet did you say you were from?"

"Earth, sir. Since you've never heard of it, I'm guessing it must be a long ways off…or, to put it better, _I'm_ a long ways off."

Owen looked at him. "I'm trying to place your species. That might help you in finding your world. What species are you?" His eyes ran over Garfield's green skin and purple-and-black uniform.

"Well, _actually,_ " said Beast Boy, "I'm a human being. _Homo sapiens._ When I was little, my parents had to use an experimental treatment to save my life, and one of the side effects was this." He brushed his fingers along his green cheeks.

"You mean you're _human?_ Wow! I never would've guessed!" Luke was staring openly now; previously, he'd thought their strange visitor was simply another alien. But to learn he was human? Then he realized how that sounded. "Oh, I, I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to be, to be offensive or anything. It's just…I'm sorry." He was blushing in embarrassment.

Garfield laughed. "It's alright, dude. Believe me, 'alien' is about the _kindest_ thing I've ever been called."

Luke looked puzzled. "Er, 'dude'?"

…..

 _Sure,_ thought Cyborg, immobile in the hold of the gigantic overland vessel he'd seen. _Simple. Just go up to 'em and ask for directions. Well, they gave you directions, alright. Zapped you, immobilized you, and stashed you away down here in this dark hole with a bunch of clanky rustbuckets._

 _Any other time, you'd've been just a little bit more cautious, but nooOOOoo. Just walked right up to them. Well, now what, genius?_

Being only partly mechanical, he was able to speak, with great effort. His peripheral vision of his one human eye told him that some of the robots—some of whom were pretty advanced, technologically—were in better shape than the others. There was one right next to him, a humanoid robot made of some sort of golden metal. Like him, that robot had been immobilized by a restraining bolt in the neck. With a supreme effort, he spoke. "Hey. You."

The golden robot turned to him. Evidently, his restraining mechanism wasn't programmed to be quite as severe as Cyborg's. "Were you addressing me?"

"Yeah. What's…going on?"

"What's going on? Well, what's going on is dreadful, simply dreadful. We've been captured by Jawas, no doubt to be sold for whatever they can get for us." The golden droid fretted. "I just know they'll sell us for scrap. We'll be melted down for our metals. And it's all your fault, R2!" Next to the golden droid was a squat construct that Cyborg hadn't, at first, recognized as a robot. Like himself and the other droid, the short, chunky one had been fitted with a restraining bolt. It, like the one next to Cyborg, evidently was allowed to speak. But Cyborg had no way of interpreting the _beeps_ and _boops_ and occasional _squawkings_ that came from the robot's speaker. The golden droid seemed to have no problem with it, though. "Now don't blow that raspberry at me! I know I'll rue the day I let you talk me into accompanying you on this disaster. It's been a nightmare, and the worst is no doubt yet to come. And don't start about any 'secret mission,' that's balderdash. And even if there were one, we're certainly in no shape to pursue it. Look at us! Prisoners, property, to be traded off to the next scrap-monger. And then where will we be? I'll tell you where: the bottom of the barrel. Literally. My elements are quite heavy, and, when they melt me down, all of my most important circuits are going straight to bottom of the boiler."

 _You're a regular ray of bleeping sunshine, you know that?_ Cyborg thought. But aloud he said, "Now don't panic or anything. I'll think of something." He considered the droids around him; unlike most, these two actually seemed to have real personalities. That implied AI technology far in advance of anything he knew of. Then he thought of the battle robot, Atlas. Well, almost.

Well. If and when he made his escape, he'd just take them both with him, including Mr. Sunshine there. He sounded like he knew what he was going on about anyway; he'd be a good source of information, at the very least.

But how to get out of here?

Then he felt the vast rolling conveyance grind to a halt.

…

Owen Lars was standing outside his farmhouse, waiting on the Jawas. He'd heard the sound of their desert crawler from a long ways off, and was waiting to see what they had to offer. In the past, they'd had some good deals, not only on "salvaged" droids, but also mechanisms, both working and not, they'd picked up somewhere. Occasionally, ships malfunctioned in the area around Tatooine, the same as everywhere else, with the difference being that if it happened here, just the other side of nowhere, there was no one to respond to any distress beacon. Usually, the crash of a starship resulted in very few usable parts, but sometimes, some particularly well-designed ships were remarkably intact. Owen privately (and sometimes, not so privately) suspected the Jawas of illegally placing beacons in remote places, so that ships' crews thought they were zeroing in on some relief station, only to have the Jawas "relieve" them of their valuables. Still, he had to admit, they were frequently a good source for mechanical necessities. And they came to you, rather than you having to go all the way into town.

Today he was in the market for droids. Moisture farming was hard work, and he could use all the help he could get.

Beast Boy had remained inside, debating with himself as to whether or not he should share with the Lars' family the _other_ side effect of his treatment. Sometimes, that aspect of his nature tended to freak people out. Even back home, he'd been the subject of a certain amount of irrational fear and even disgust at being able to change into animals. To a lot of people, that was even worse than being semi-robotic, like Cyborg. He'd often joked that he was a charter member of the world's smallest minority.

Perhaps he'd better not say anything. Unless, of course, it proved to be necessary.

But now, he drifted outside, to see what these traveling merchants had to offer. While he really had no particular interest in robotics, perhaps these travelers had seen something of his comrades.

To his great surprise, one of the "droids" (as he learned they were called) being offered for sale was none other than his friend, Cyborg! "Cy! What're you doing here?" He rushed up to his buddy.

Cyborg didn't move. "Hey, grass stain." It was obviously a great effort for him to speak. "Don't suppose…you could…lend a hand…or paw…here?"

"Cy, what's wrong?" Cyborg gestured with his chin at the protruding bolt on his neck. "Can't…move. These bastards…."

"Mr. Lars! This is one of the ones I was telling you about! His name's Cyborg, and he's a friend of mine! Ask them how he got here! Er, please, I mean?"

Owen Lars turned to the head Jawa. "Cyborg? You're trying to sell me a _cyborg?_ That's illegal! You can't sell cyborgs! Everybody knows that!"

The head Jawa backed slightly away. _"No, no,"_ it said, in the Jawa language, _"Not cyborg. Full droid! See?"_

"Yeah? Lemme take a look." Owen Lars went up to Cyborg and ran his fingers across Cyborg's face. "That's flesh! This _is_ a cyborg! Beru?" He turned to his wife, who was standing in the doorway. "Maybe you should give the authorities a call?"

" _No, no! We promise!"_ The lead Jawa considered. _"Not for sale! Not salvaged! Rescued!"_

"Oh, _rescued,_ is it? Okay, well, we'll be glad to help you out here, I'm sure. Take him off your hands, get him to someone who can help him. After all, you said he was, ah, 'rescued'; he may need medical attention." He eyed the restraining bolt on Cyborg's neck. He wasn't fooled for a minute. "Bee? Hold off on that call for a moment. Now," he turned back to the head Jawa. "Let's talk deals. You do have a few droids here that interest me. I'm more than willing to overlook this, ah, _misunderstanding_ if we can come to an equitable arrangement on these others…" Inwardly, he smiled. This might actually be fun. Owen Lars loved to haggle.

Shortly, Cyborg was seated alongside Beast Boy in the Lars' dining room, rubbing his neck where the restraining bolt had been. "Thanks, guys. That was gettin' old real quick."

"How'd you get here, Cy? And where are the others?"

"Dunno. All I know is, I came to a few miles from here. None of the others were with me. I made the mistake of thinking those shorties out there could direct me to someone who could help. Well, I guess, in a way, they did, but they didn't have to be quite so forceful about it." Again, he grimaced, rubbing his neck.

Owen and Luke were busy outside examining the droids. The short, chunky R2 unit promised to be good at interfacing with the farm's computer systems, while the golden droid…well, could probably come in handy for manual labor. "Should we remove these bolts, Uncle Owen?"

"First we gotta examine their programming, make sure there's no surprises. Take the R2 unit into the shop; I'll have a look at the other one out here." After Luke had gone, Owen went up to the golden droid. "Now. You're designated C3PO, correct? What exactly is your function again?"

In the shed: Luke had gone over the chunky droid's programming with a fine tooth comb. Uncle Owen was right, of course; buying droids in this manner, you never really knew what you were getting. On some rare occasions (it was rumored), some people had even had the displeasure of buying droids programmed to lie low, then kill everything and everyone in sight. Luke shrugged. He could see it happening, but inwardly, that sounded more like a terror-rumor than something that had actually taken place.

Besides. This R2 unit had no weapons, and no means of wielding a weapon if it had one. Its sole function was to serve as an interface between humans and complex computer systems, synchronizing and monitoring them to make sure they were functioning correctly and at peak capacity. Oversight, so to speak.

Of course, he thought, he could see how, in some cases, that, in itself, could be a weapon.

Uncle Owen brought in the golden humanoid droid. "Luke? C3PO here is a translator-droid, designed to be an assistant to humans. See what you can do with 'em, okay? I'm gonna go check on our guests." He left to go to the main farmhouse.

"Okay," Luke said to the translator-droid. "Come on over here while I work on your friend a bit. Tell me little about yourself. We don't have much use for translator-droids here, but I'm sure we can find you something to do."

"Oh, absolutely, Master Luke! And, yes, thank you all for getting us away from those terrible Jawas! I was afraid we'd be melted down for scrap…"

Luke pried a cover off the R2 unit. Inside, the model designation read "R2 D2 417583." Below that was a string of numbers indicating the programming classification as well as a host of other numbers indicating where the droid had been manufactured and by whom. "Hm," Luke mused, "Looks like one of your functions is as an external encrypted data storage unit. That's interesting. You don't see many of those out this way."

"Precisely, Master Luke. R2 and I were on a ship, when we were attacked by, by someone." C3PO considered; it might not be wise to mention their ship had been attacked by Imperial troops. After all, the Empire was the law, and he didn't know just how these people felt about the Empire. If they were loyalists, or even simply wished to avoid trouble (a not-unreasonable supposition), then he and R2 could easily find themselves back in Imperial hands faster than one could say "law abiding citizen."

Luke didn't notice C3PO's hesitation. "Hm. There's a block here I don't know about. Looks like a data storage unit, but I'm not familiar with the type." He glanced over the programming specs. "But it seems harmless enough. I'll go ahead and remove these bolts." He took a tool from the wall, and, inserting it onto the head of the bolt, twisted it first one way, then the other, and the bolt obligingly popped off. "Now. You come over here, and I'll get yours removed."

Inside the farmhouse. "*-moisture farming, yeah. Tatooine's a desert planet, so water's like gold around here. If you like, I can show you the machines we use to extract and condense it." Cyborg nodded, enthusiastically. Anything to do with machinery was right up his alley. "So you're both from this 'Earth' planet? I've never heard of it, but that doesn't necessarily mean anything." Owen Lars sipped on his cup of not-coffee. "I'm afraid I couldn't tell you where you are or how you got here. From what you're telling me, even you don't know. Now, about your friends…probably your best bet is to head on into Mos Eisely, as soon as you can, see if there's any mention of any outworlders there. If there is such information, that's where it'll be. But you'll have to be on guard against the Empire. You don't want to attract their attention. Yeah," he said, turning to Cyborg, "it _is_ illegal to sell cyborgs, but, like a lot of illegal things, it happens. And you," he pointed his cup at Beast Boy, "I should warn you: 'greeny' is a popular racist insult, and I guess you can figure that you'll draw that from every bigot around. Imperial troops here are predominantly human, and they frequently get away with exercising their prejudices. So you might want to consider flying under the sensor scan, if you know what I mean."

"Thanks, sir. I appreciate the heads-up. But it won't be the first time I've been called names. But once we get there, where would we go?"

"Well, there _is_ a library of sorts. And a news service, though the news we get out here is often best described as 'olds' by the time it gets to us. Also, it's frequently heavily filtered, in line with Imperial politics. And, uh, like I said: you want to avoid any entanglements with Imperial authorities."

…

Back out in the shed: Luke was hunting around for a tool to unlock the data block on the R2 unit. However, every one he'd tried simply hadn't worked.

He'd removed the droids' restraining bolts, and was now accompanied by C3PO, whom he'd delegated the task of "gopher" to. The protocol droid didn't seem to mind one bit; Luke imagined that after being cooped up in the bottom of the Jawas' sand crawler, it was a relief to get out and stretch your hydraulics.

…..

In Ben Kenobi's hut: Raven and Ben had talked quite a while, and she could sense there were some things he was not telling her. She wondered whether or not to confront him with this, but decided to wait. After all, she was a guest here. "I'd really like to find my friends. Do you have any idea how I might go about doing that?"

He rubbed his chin. "There is a settlement not far from here. It's fairly central to Tatooine, but I caution you: it's not much. The only library there—which, by the way, also functions as the news outlet for the whole planet—is woefully small. And, due to the political situation, most of the information there is heavily biased on the side of the Emperor." Raven nodded; from the way he'd spoken of the Empire, that didn't surprise her. Most governments, when they slide into tyranny, start out with controlling what the people read and hear. "And…something else. I should also caution you about: your…unusual appearance and predicament. I get the impression there's more to you than meets the eye, but we're still largely a frontier community out here, and that frequently means those who come here, whose being here is, er, mysterious, shall we say? Yes, mysterious-are frequently singled out for increased scrutiny. And many who fail to meet the documentation requirements are…well, let's just say, "detained," until somebody in authority decides to let them go." His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, and Raven got the impression, once again, that he could see below the surface, in some strange way that she wasn't familiar with. It made her extremely uncomfortable, and she was about to tell him to stop it, when he said, "Yes. You could definitely hold your own in a pitched battle, but I'm sure you agree there's no need to ask for trouble."

"So…what are your recommendations for how I go about finding out if any of them are here?"

He considered. "Perhaps I'll make a special trip into town in the next day or so. I know some people there who could get you a forged identification, and paperwork stating you were here on perfectly legitimate business.

"But before I do, I need to check on a few things. You are, no doubt, aware that I can…sense things that are not immediately evident. We call that the 'Force,' and, as I said, in another life, I was a practitioner of its art. And that same something is telling me that events are about to transpire that are crucial to the entire situation we now find ourselves in. Perhaps even to…events of a much larger scale than what we currently perceive. I need to…" and here his gaze wandered off, like a man looking into the distance, "…check on some things, and on certain people. There's a disturbance in the Force that I can't account for. You've told me you're not a practitioner; the best way I can describe it is to compare it to a thunderstorm building just over the horizon: you can't see anything just yet, but you can _feel_ it, feel the building tension, hear the sound of distant thunder, smell the rainwater on the breeze. Something's coming. I just don't know what.

"But it's been my experience that anything that powerful is very seldom welcome.

"So if you don't mind waiting a day or so, I'll be happy to accompany you to Mos Eisely. There we can see about making you above Imperial suspicion."

Well, that actually sounded like a good plan to Raven. She was, by nature, a patient person (living with Beast Boy, she'd had to be), and, while she chaffed at the delay, saw the wisdom in the old man's words. If he could help her in the way he described, and assist her in locating the others (and she found herself to be torn between hoping they were all on the same planet, and hoping they were all back on Earth, scratching their heads and wondering what had happened to her), then she certainly wouldn't turn down his help. Plus, this gave her a bit more time to study this "Force," which seemed to be taking the place of magic here; she'd not sensed any reduction in her own powers, but she had been conscious of a strange _difference_ about them.

As usual, it troubled her.

….

"And you are a senator?" Starfire sought to grasp the concept. Back on Earth, senators were almost always male, and, yes, usually older. And on Tameran, the Elders, the decision makers, were just that, as well: older, usually by a considerable amount. The woman in the next cell sounded to be nearly her own age.

"Well, I was. The senate was dissolved recently, by order of the Emperor, so, technically, I suppose you'd have to say I'm an out-of-work senator? Between jobs? However you want to express it. But I have, uhm, other interests and they brought me into conflict with the Imperials. The Emperor Palpatine seems to have a bit of a problem with opposition. He sent his favorite guard dog, Darth Vader—the man in the black robes—to serve me with an _extremely insistent_ 'invitation' to meet with him." Leia lay back on her bunk. The "interrogation" session had been grueling, and even though no physical damage had been done to her, the psychological effect drained her of her strength. She felt a lot older than her years.

"They tortured you." It was not the question. Leia took note. Whoever was in the next cell sounded young and naïve, but every so often, she'd say something that indicated she was no stranger to warfare and battle conditions. It wouldn't do to underestimate her, whoever she was.

"Yes, but regrettably, that's the sort of thing that's to be expected from the Empire these days." She sighed. "It didn't used to be that way, even for the Empire. Times…have changed."

There was a pause. Then, Leia Organa heard something from next door that chilled her in a way even Darth Vader hadn't: her fellow-prisoner's soft, girlish voice, speaking matter-of-factly, as if she were announcing a day of the week. "I will kill them," said Koriand'r of Tameran.

…

"That," said Owen Lars, "is amazing." The one called _Cyborg_ had taken a careful look at his moisture collector and made three changes that increased its efficiency by twelve percent. To some, that might not seem like much, but when dealing with large amounts of water, twelve percent worked out to quite a bit. "And you've never had any experience with this sort of tech before?"

"No. Oh, I've dealt with some similar things—back on Earth, I designed a recycling system for fluids—but, yeah, this is a first for me. But the principles don't seem that hard.

"And believe me, after all you've done for me, I feel like it's the least I could do."

"Well, we sure appreciate it. You know," he stepped closer to Cyborg, looking around to make sure he wasn't overheard, "Luke has plans to go to the Imperial Academy. He's itching to get out there, and, I guess, get off the ranch. Can't say I blame him a whole lot—there's not much here on Tatooine to offer a young man like him—but….." Cyborg waited, saying nothing. "I just have a problem with him going to the Empire." He sighed; Cyborg waited patiently. "You know, just a few years ago, I wouldn't have been so against his going. But…even here on this backwater planet, I've…. _seen_ the changes in the Empire." He looked off. "It's no longer our government." Then he looked back, somewhat shamefacedly, at having unburdened himself to someone he barely knew. "I…just don't think it's a good idea for him to go. For several reasons.

"So anything that helps this ranch, and could tend to make staying more attractive for him…yeah, it's a welcome thing."

"I know, sir. From what I've been gathering, this 'Empire' sounds like something most people would like to avoid."

"It's not just that I don't want him to get an education. I've…heard things. Things about what happens to young people who get into the Academy. Bad things.

"I'd like to spare Luke that, but, he's a young man." Owen Lars laughed. "He still has all the answers."

"As we say back home, Mr. Lars, 'I hear ya.'"

….

Raven had taken to exploring the desert around Ben's hut. Her powers enabled her to largely avoid entanglements with the hostile Sand People, and those few times she did encounter them, had allowed her to "educate" them on the (lack of) wisdom of assaulting demon sorceresses. A demon sorceress who seemed to have a shorter temper these days than she remembered. They soon learned to keep their distance.

But she had to admit, the desert was, in its own way, beautiful. The sand dunes, the sand blowing in patterns from the wind, and the sunsets—especially the sunsets—served to relax her. She could understand why Ben Kenobi (who had been the "Obi Wan Kenobi" that the voice from the crystal had spoken of.  
When she'd pressed him for the reason why he'd chosen to go by another name, he'd adroitly changed the subject. Raven guessed she could take a hint) had chosen to settle here. Overall, it was…peaceful. That is, as long as one avoided the hostile locals, of course.

 _People,_ thought Raven. _People are the problem._ She sat down on an isolated sand dune, the soft, warm sand underneath her, her bare legs stretched out, and leaned back, resting on her hands, closing her eyes, just enjoying the sun. That, in itself was unusual; normally Raven didn't care for the sun. _If there were no people, there would be no problems._

Then she suddenly sat up, eyes wide. Where had _that_ thought come from?

….

"Well, Mr. and Mrs. Lars, we've really enjoyed our time here." Cyborg and Beast Boy were taking their leave of Luke's family. Luke himself was in the barn, still trying to decrypt the R2 unit's data block. Cyborg guessed, from the language his audio pickups were detecting, that he was not having much luck. "Luke! Come out here and say goodbye to our guests! Those blasted droids aren't going anywhere!"

Luke emerged from the shed, wiping grease off onto his pants. "Oh, sure. I'm sorry; I haven't been a very good host, have I? It's just…"

"Hey, I totally understand. If we had more time, I'd help you with 'em, but we really need to find our friends, and see about getting back home." Cyborg shook Luke's hand.

Beast Boy extended his own hand. "G'bye, dude. It's really been good meeting you. Maybe we'll see you again."

Luke laughed. "I've got to remember that strange word you use, 'dood.' I like it. I may start using it myself. Uh, you're sure it's not dirty?"

"Naw, it's just a word. It's completely nondiscriminatory, works for both guys and gals. Though some people say, 'dudette' for women, but that always struck me as stretching it, kinda." He grinned. He had, with Cyborg's silent consent, not told them about his ability to change into animals. There was no point in weirding these nice people out, especially when he didn't have to.

"'Dood.' Got it." After a few more pleasantries, they left, heading in the direction of Mos Eisely. The Lars had provided them with hooded cloaks (kinda like Raven's, Beast Boy thought, with a sudden pang of longing. As much as she irritated him, he'd have given a lot to see her right then) both for protection from the sun and for what concealment they offered. The cloaks appeared to be standard, here on this world.

After they were out of earshot of the farmhouse, Beast Boy looked back over his shoulder, in the manner of one who wants to make sure he's alone. "Cy? Gotta question."

"Shoot."

"Does all this seem….kinda familiar to you?"

Cyborg grunted. "Heck, no. I know for a fact I've never met anything like those stinkin' Jawas. Did you _smell_ those things?"

Beast Boy considered for a moment. "Well, maybe not the Jawas…I don't know…but other things…they just seem like I've seen 'em somewhere before."

"Ah, it's probably just a case a' déjà vu. You know, where you think you've been somewhere before, but you haven't."

Beast Boy was silent. "Yeah," he said after a long moment. "It's probably that."

….

Luke swore, for what seemed like the four hundred ninety-eighth time that afternoon alone.

The two strangers had left the day before, but their arrival—and the hint of far off places Luke had only heard about—had once again stirred him to speak to Uncle Owen about his recent application to the Academy. He really should have known better by now.

"You're a young man, Luke," his uncle had begun, and Luke could almost fill in the rest of the sermon by himself. "And young people always think they've got it all figured out. I know life here seems like drudgery, but you've never experienced what's out there. Yeah, I know there's lots of good experiences out there…but there's plenty of other types, too. And I've heard things about the Academy. Unpleasant things. You remember Jayko, used to live the next ridge over, before his folks moved? He went to the Academy. Everything seemed perfect. Then he comes home, no explanation, and one night ups and kills his folks, and then takes a knife to himself. And we'd never have known what had happened, but his little sister was hiding in the closet and saw the whole thing. He, too, thought he had all the answers. And he wasn't the first one I've heard about, nor the last.

"Sometimes the Academy _changes_ people, Luke. I don't know how or why, but I've my theories. You just can't take young men and women, train them to kill, expose them to the horrors of war, then just discharge them and expect them to be well-adjusted. True, most of the time they aren't murderers, but there's a percentage who don't come totally back from the Abyss, is all I'm saying. I don't want that happening to you.

"I'm not trying to keep you from the good things in life. I'm not even trying to keep you from the bad things in life. I know I can't do that.

"I'm trying to keep you from the awful things in life."

So now Luke struggled once again with this stupid data block and tried, once again, to come up with a good argument that would get Uncle Owen to see things his way. Of course there was danger, but there was danger everywhere. Did Uncle Owen think the Academy _deliberately_ twisted people's heads around? Come on!

 _Sproing!_ went a small spring on the data block. Luke fell backward, more from surprise than loss of grip. His mouth dropped open when he saw the image coalescing in front of him….the image of a young dark haired woman attired in a white robe.

What….?

" _Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi…"_

What…?

"… _you're my only hope…"_

The image faded out, and he hastily punched in some codes, recalling it. There had to be more to the message than just that. But aside from playing the same clip over and over, he could find nothing to allow him access to any deeper memory nodes. Who had that young woman been?

And why did she look so…familiar?

….

The next morning, over breakfast: "You know, Uncle Owen, I think that R2 unit may have been stolen."  
"What makes you think that?"  
"Well, I stumbled across a recording while I was cleaning him. He says that he belongs to someone named Obi-Wan Kenobi. I thought he might have meant old Ben. Do you know what he's talking about?"

Owen appeared to think for a minute. Then, "Un-uh."

Luke pursed his lips. "I wonder if he's related to Ben" he mused.

"That wizard is just a crazy old man," said Owen immediately. "Now, tomorrow I want you to take that R2 unit to Anchorhead and have its memory erased. That'll be the end of it. It belongs to us now."

"But what if this Obi-Wan comes looking for him?"

Owen shook his head. "He won't. I don't think he exists anymore. He died about the same time as your father."

Luke looked up in surprise. "He knew my father?"

Owen scowled. "I didn't say that. Besides, I told you to forget it." He got up from the table.  
"Where are you going, Luke?" Aunt Beru wrung her hands nervously.

Now it was Luke's turn to scowl. "It looks like I'm going nowhere. At least those two we met today knew where they were going and why, and it didn't matter to them if they made it or not... I'm gonna finish cleaning those Droids." And with that, he got up and left.

After he'd left, Beru turned to her husband. "Owen, he can't stay here forever, you know. Most of his friends have gone, and…and it just means so much to him."

Owen nodded, not in agreement, but just to terminate the discussion. "Well, I'll make it up to him next year, I promise."

"Luke's just not a farmer, Owen. He has too much of his father in him."

Owen gave the softest of sighs, looking out the window. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of."

 _To be continued…_


	3. Chapter 3: Orders and Promotions

Teen Titans / Star Wars Crossover: A Galaxy Far, Far Away.

Chapter 3: Orders and Promotions

….

 _A collaboration between Edgar H. Sutter and myself. Neither of us owns any part of either the Teen Titans or the Star Wars franchise._

… _.._

Chapter 3: Orders and Promotions

In the desert, somewhere between the Lars' farm and Mos Eisely, a green camel was carrying a shiny plandanium cyborg: "Knock, knock," said Beast Boy, his voice only slight affected by his form. Nobody had ever yet figured that out.

Cyborg, sitting on top of the unusually-colored Bactrian, groaned. This had been going on for over an hour. "Who's there?" It sounded like he wasn't even paying attention to Garfield's attempts to pass the time, which, were he to examine it, was precisely what he was not doing.

"Simmer."

"Simmer who?"

"Simmer's the last time I told you a knock knock joke! Ha!"

Cyborg groaned again. "That hadda be the worst one yet, Gar. I can't even understand it. Maybe we should-*"

"No, no, I gotta million of 'em! Here: knock, knock."

Groan. "Who's there?"

"INCOMING!"

"Incoming who?"

"GET DOWN, CY!" And Beast Boy morphed into a lizard, dumping his friend unceremoniously onto the sand. Cyborg could already feel the loose grains invading his joints.

The missile _whiiizzzzed_ overhead, and Cyborg's head jerked around, his automatic tracking systems already following it, and backtracking it to its source. But even as one set of sensors zeroed in on the source—two white-suited figures two sand dunes over—another set registered that the missile had turned in mid-course, and was heading back towards them. _Great. A seeker. Maser guided, maybe?_ But he'd sensed no such "painting," and a laser targeting system would've revealed the shooter's location as a bright point of light.

With a speed brought about by much practice and experience, he raised his right arm, the point defense missile already emerging from his arm and locking onto the target. With a backwash _whoosh_ that would have momentarily blinded him, had he not already closed his one human eye, it immediately zeroed in on the hostile, exploding it thirty meters away. He took cover in case the thing had been lined with shrapnel. "Hey!" He shouted, when no further missiles appeared, "What th' hell you think you're doing?! Ya almost shot us over here!" The suspicion formed in his mind that this might have been just exactly what they were trying to do, but why? They hadn't _done_ anything, had they? And the two armored figures looked too official to be farmers or ranchers defending their property from trespassers. Besides, what property?

The two figures milled about behind their sand dune. It looked like they were conversing between themselves. They ducked down out of sight, then Cyborg saw two vehicles that could only be called "flying motorcycles" rise up partially over the dune, and zip off towards the west, angling southward.

Cyborg plopped down on the sand beside Beast Boy, who'd morphed back into human form. "What," he began, "was all THAT about?"

"You got me." Garfield was still anxious, peering around, his own keener-than-human senses alert for any sign of hostiles. "I just happened to catch a glimpse of 'em, out of one eye. One good thing about prey animals, they usually have _really good_ peripheral vision. But why shoot at us once, and leave?"

"Maybe they _really_ didn't like your jokes."

Speeding away from the encounter, the two stormtroopers were talking over a private comm system. "What _were_ you thinking? Those two didn't match _any_ thing on our target list!"

"Let it go. I thought that robot was one of the ones we were looking for."

"We're _supposed_ to be looking for a gold protocol droid and an ambulatory trash can of an R2 unit. Those two didn't fit _either_ description!"

"Okay, okay! I said okay! Just…let's not talk about it."

"Yeah, if Lord Vader finds out you wasted a valuable missile on the wrong target, an' nearly got us found out, you _know_ what he'd do."

"Yeah." The second stormtrooper ran his finger around his collar, already feeling the phantom constriction of a Force-choke. "Uh, let's not report this, okay?"

The other one shrugged. "Alright, but you're doing my laundry for a full year."

"Half a year. And I'll throw in polishing your armor."

"Three quarters. Plus the polishing." And so on.

Presently, Cyborg and Beast Boy topped a final rise, and saw Mos Eisely below them. Both their hearts sank. "It's a dump," moaned Cyborg.

Even Beast Boy's normally optimistic attitude couldn't shield him from this reality. "Yeah," he agreed, "but it seems like it's the only dump we got. Let's go see what we can find."

"Hold it, grass stain. Remember what Owen said. There _are_ such things as cyborgs here, but I think you're gonna be pushin' the envelope."

"Way ahead of you." And with that, he morphed into a green parrot, and flew up to Cyborg's shoulder. "Ahoy, matey! Shiver me timbers, and strike the mainsail! Swab the decks! And a lot of other nautical terms I'll think of later! _Squarwk!_ "

Cyborg thought. Okay, this was actually a pretty good idea. For once. "Okay, well, let's go see what we can find."

The cantina: There was a customer over by one wall, a wall with no inconveniently-placed doors, and only one useable window. The cloaked and cowled figure watched the panoply of human and other than human play out before him.

Over there: two conversing in whispers, looking around while simultaneously being careful not to be seen looking around, before one handed the other a package…a transfer of some contraband material. Another pair, one clearly inebriated on something, with someone's arm thrown about him / it in a companionable, supportive way, but with the other hand pulling out a device that might have been either a contact stunner or a communicator…a kidnapping, or capture. Another: two figures slouching at the bar, becoming more and more drunk, then shoving someone next to them…rowdy drunks.

Apparently, some things were universal. Or transuniversal, he hadn't decided.

The figure in the shadows had been quietly tinkering with the "liberated" Imperial tablets, putting one together from the parts of the others, being careful to leave out the tracking components while including the linking circuits. So far, he'd been reasonably successful. Still, he took care not to stay in one place too long. The biggest factor in avoiding detection, regardless of technology, is to be nonpresent when somebody comes looking for you.

…..

On board the Imperial Mobile Battle Station IMBS3003, colloquially known as the "Death Star," so called, not only because of its formidable weapons system, but also because many of the technicians assigned to work on it had an alarming tendency to turn up dead. No explanation had ever been forthcoming regarding the manner of their deaths, and the remaining techs, as well as the soldiers assigned there (many of whom actually volunteered, as it was considered a prestigious appointment, in spite of the danger) had learned, long ago, to simply not ask questions.

The stormtrooper who was assigned to patrol this corridor, down here in the holding cells, was, in violation of protocol, alone. His partner had been taken sick, and had asked him if he'd mind her taking the time off. He'd volunteered to serve her watch, and, although it was definitely not standard procedure, had not requested a replacement. He didn't feel the need to. There weren't but two prisoners, and both were locked down as tightly as Imperial tech could make them. Usually, this run was about as exciting as watching lube evaporate.

So it came as a mild surprise to him when he chanced to spy an open cell door, cell number 21-214. This was definitely not according to protocol, and not just due to the possible escape of prisoners. The battle station could, conceivably, like any ship in space, no matter how large, be subjected to stresses and strains that would momentarily overload the inertial dampeners, causing any personnel to be tossed about. Open doorways then became holes into which one could fall. This presented a safety hazard.

He wasn't sure which of these cells actually contained the prisoners—surely, this couldn't be one of them, both were supposed to be secured by lockdown closures,—so he was perhaps a little cautious. But at the same time, he refrained from reporting it over his comm, since, should command send someone down to investigate, they'd discover he'd been patrolling alone, in violation of procedures. Not only would this get him in trouble, it might also come back on his partner, who should have notified somebody of her illness and inability to work her assigned patrol. He didn't want that for either of them. So he unlimbered his blaster, and stuck his head into the darkened cell, looking for the light button. Odd that the standard emergency lights should be out.

He never really felt the blow to the back of his neck that sent him down to the floor, unconscious.

There were no onlookers in the corridor to see his feet, still protruding from the dark cell, be turned over and dragged inside.

…..

"Man. This place is a _dump,"_ Cyborg muttered under his breath, speaking so softly that only Garfield, sitting on his shoulder in the form of a green parrot, could hear him. _Actually, calling this place a "dump" is probably an insult to dumps everywhere._ The two were in the "Civic Center," which consisted of one single adobe hut with a sum total of one shelf on the wall, one desk at which slept an attendant, one small table, and two wooden chairs. There were two e-reading devices, and Cyborg had been fortunate enough to find a translator program he downloaded into his databanks. He was also able to access the news feeds, which, as Owen Lars had said, were heavily filtered. But he could read between the lines, in some cases.

"You said it," said the parrot on his shoulder. " _I've_ got a bigger library than this back home." Which was true, Victor reflected. That library might consist of comic books and graphic novels, but it still beat _this._

"We certainly aren't going to find out much here. Maybe we should talk to the locals?"

"Would they be any better educated? Remember what Owen said: news here is heavily filtered."

"I've never yet heard of a good, effective filter for gossip. Let's find somebody who looks like they know somethin.'"

"Cy?" Garfield sound worried. Neither of them knew if there were creatures corresponding to parrots here, or, if so, how, the locals would respond to him holding such an involved conversation with one, presuming said corresponding creatures weren't intelligent. Just in case, however, both of them were careful to keep their voices down.

"Yeah, Gar?"

"You really think we'll find 'em?" It had been an unspoken fear on both their parts that they might be the only ones who'd been zapped to…wherever this place was.

Cyborg, aka Victor Stone, started to shrug, then thought better of it, with his teammate on his shoulder. "I don't see why not. I mean, _we're_ here; why wouldn't _they_ be?"

"Yeah, but…even if they were teleported…something might'a happened." What had been on both their minds was the very real possibility that their friends could easily have been teleported into some hostile environment. Such as the interior of a star. That would be fatal even for Starfire or Raven's abilities.

Or they could have been _partially_ teleported. Garfield's mind deliberately shied away from thinking of finding only a part of Raven, somewhere.

Not his Raven. Please. Not that.

"Look, we got here fine. They're probably just too far off for my sensors to detect 'em. You know we chipped everybody, long ago. 'Cept you, of course, but you couldn't keep a low profile if you tried. But the GPS system here is either out of order, nonexistent or works on a principle I'm not familiar with. So I can't locate 'em. But…no reason to borrow trouble, as the saying goes. We'll find 'em, we just gotta keep looking.

"Now let's go find somebody who looks like they might know somethin.'"

…

"He did _what?"_ Luke exclaimed, staring at the golden protocol droid in total disbelief."

"He left, Master Luke. During the night. I tried to persuade him not to go-*"

"Evidently not very effectively."

"Er, no, Master Luke. He's been…well, 'mumbling,' is perhaps the best way of describing it…for some time now about some absurdity of a secret mission. Frankly, I think his programming may be a bit faulty."

"Great." Luke face palmed himself. "Uncle Owen is gonna have my hide for not taking him to Anchorhead sooner. Come on, 3PO, we've got to find him before the Jawas do, or, worse, the Sand People."

"Er, Sand People, Master Luke?"

"Desert dwellers you don't want to meet. If the Jawas find him, they'll just recapture him, for resale. Whether or not we could prove ownership…but if the Sand People find him, they'll just bust him up for parts. Or just for fun, either way." He hurried out into his waiting landspeeder, C3PO struggling to get in on the passenger side. "Do you at least know which _way_ he was headed?"

….

Raven had been taking long walks out into the desert. Ben—or Obi Wan, as he'd once been referred to (and she still didn't know why he'd chosen to be called by another name)—had cautioned her about the desert dwellers, and she'd heeded his precautions. Several times she'd been the subject of an ambush, but, with her powers, that hadn't exactly turned out the way her attackers had hoped. They actually hadn't been that much of a problem, and by now they knew enough to give her a wide berth.

What troubled her far more was the increased frequency at which she seemed to lose control of her temper. Several times, she'd not only beaten the Sand People back, but inflicted more than necessary harm to them. The old Raven would have been shocked at the sometimes sheer savagery of her counterattacks, but the new Raven not only approved…

…but began to look forward to the next encounter. _Is that what I'm doing out here now? Looking for somebody to pick a fight with?_

And if so, why? In Azar's name, _why?_

….

"I'm _certain_ he's around here somewhere, Master Luke." C3PO's voice modulator evinced his concern. If they didn't find R2 before those dastardly Sand People did…

He never felt the blow from behind that knocked his logic circuits for a loop.

Luke had only the barest hint of a warning before the blow landed on him. He managed to roll with it, an act which saved his life but not his consciousness. He felt himself losing focus, his last image that of the heavily garbed attacker…

That same attacker raised his weapon for the killing stroke, when his lookout signaled him: the she-demon was coming. Briefly, he hesitated; this one's head would make a good trophy. But trophies are of no use to the dead, and, like others of his kind, he'd come to fear the diminutive figure that housed such power. With one last, regretting look at what was almost his prize, he and his cohort made for safer ground.

Luke's consciousness swam ever so cautiously back into his head. His eyes opened a little, then closed again. Then they opened again, and immediately shut once more. Then a third time…

What was he doing alive? The last thing he remembered was getting hammered by a surprise attack from a Sand People warrior. A horrible thought occurred to him: could he be a disembodied head hanging from someone's trophy pole? But surely not; his body hurt. His body wouldn't hurt if it weren't connected to him anymore, would it?

He opened his eyes all the way….

"He's coming around," said a woman's voice, a voice that in no way had any right to be that…that…

….both sexy and a little scary at the same time. The owner of that voice couldn't help but be erotic, but, he had to admit, in a somewhat intimidating way.

The view that met his eyes confirmed that. Standing over him was a young woman of truly amazing, and at the same time, amazingly casual, sensuality. And with just one look at her, Luke, unexperienced with such matters as he was, already knew she was dangerous.

In appearance, she was young, perhaps around twenty Standard years, with bobbed violet hair cut in an "A" frame around her head. She was wearing a hooded cape of some deep indigo blue color which obscured everything except her head and her feet, which were attired in medium-heeled soft boots of the same color. Her eyes, which were currently fixed on him, were violet in color, and her skin was a light, pale gray. Overall, she was a very striking-looking young woman, and, in anyone else, he would definitely have found her unavoidably attractive, but _this_ person, he sensed, was different from anyone else he'd ever met. He'd never before thought it was possible to be aroused _and_ terrified by someone at the same time, but that was what he was experiencing now. "Uh…w-where am I?"

"Luke?" Said a voice over to his right. Old Ben came into view, and Luke was glad to see him. The young woman's stare had been downright cold, and the notion that he might be alone with her, or, worse, her captive, was disturbing to him on more than one level. But Ben's kindly gaze rested on him like a tranquilizer. "How are you feeling, Luke?" Meanwhile, the young woman, apparently losing interest in him (thankfully! Thankfully?), drifted over to the other side of hut.

"Ben?" While their association had never been too frequent, Luke had met Ben on a number of occasions, mostly when he was younger, and had remembered the old hermit with a mixture of friendliness and the caution instilled in him by his aunt and uncle. He really couldn't think of any _reason_ for that caution, simply that his uncle, primarily, had always regarded the old hermit with a certain amount of suspicion.

"Raven, here, found you and your two compatriots out in the desert. Apparently, you'd had a bit of a run in with the Sand People. She taught them a few manners." He gave the one he'd called _Raven_ (and Luke thought, that was a _perfect_ name for her) what almost amounted to a sharp look, but fell short by a few meters. Raven either pretended not to notice or truly did not, which one, he couldn't tell. "Anyway, she brought you all back here. You had a nasty blow to the head."

"Uh…" He said, getting up. Ben had been right; it _had_ been a nasty blow, and he was feeling the effects of it still. He fought to regain full consciousness, fighting off the nausea that accompanied the blow, all the while aware of the startling young woman over by the other wall of the hut, who appeared to be studying something on the table. "You say, Raven—that's her?—found me out there?" He turned his attention to the young woman, who, now that his vision was beginning to clear, he could see was very young indeed, hardly out of her teens. Yet for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to think of her as a "girl." "Thank you, er, Raven. I thought I was a goner, there."

The young woman drifted back over to him. Once again that piercing violet gaze transfixed him. He found himself wishing she'd look away….

….and simultaneously wishing she wouldn't. "You're quite welcome." Her voice was just like he'd heard, when he was semiconscious. In anyone else, he might would have called it "sultry," but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to attach that term to Raven. "Do you usually roam the desert undefended?"

"Er, no. I was…looking for…wait!" Memory came flooding back to him. "I was looking for the R2 unit my uncle Owen bought! It ran away during the night…oh…there was another droid, C3PO, who was with me….is he still functional? I…" A spasm of pain shot through his head.

Instantly, Ben was at his side, holding him up. "It's alright, Luke. We recovered both droids. They took a bit of a beating, but nothing I couldn't repair. But you say the R2 unit, R2 D2, I believe it is, ran away during the night? That's rather unusual behavior for a droid."

"Yeah, well….say, this might be a good time…there was a message in R2 D2's memory storage, a message for someone called 'Obi Wan Kenobi.' Would…would you know anything about that?"

Ben and Raven exchanged knowing glances.

….

On a planet far, far away, a robed and hooded figure sat rock-still in a specially modified chair. Upon the arm of the chair was an LED panel enabling the user to send and receive holomessages across the stars. The figure activated this feature now. "My student."

Light years away, a tall, massively built black-robed figure replaced the helmet with its connected respirator upon his head. The soft _whooshing_ of the device filled the small room. He turned and activated the "receive" command on the control panel in front of him. Bowed low before the three dimensional image of the hooded figure that sprang from the board. "My Master."

"I have sensed a disturbance in the Force. There…is a new player in the field. Someone, or perhaps several someones, but one in particular, has arrived. This individual, perhaps in company with the others, perhaps alone, will play a crucial role in upcoming events. It is vital they play that role in accordance with our plans, rather than those of our enemies."

"I completely agree, my Master. Where might this individual be found?"

"That is unclear. The one I sense the strongest, is…different. Both more and less powerful than even a Jedi Master. Whoever, whatever it is, he, she, it or they, must be brought over to our side.

"If what I am sensing is true, this may not be that difficult.

"But difficult or not, you will make this a priority.

"I will renew my search for this unique individual, and apprise you of any such whereabouts as become apparent." And with that, Emperor Palpatine closed the connection.

He sat back in his chair. It was not a throne, as one might expect from an Emperor, but simply a standard comfortable office chair. And he thought.

He had sensed the imbalance in the Force for some time now. In his own way, he worked to increase that imbalance, for his own reasons. But what he was sensing lately was…disturbing precisely because it could not be categorized so easily.

 _Was_ it a disturbance in the Force, as he'd told his disciple? Or a disturbance in something equally primal but perhaps less subject to his domination and control?

The latter possibility worried him.

…

Mos Eisely: Captain Mirin was sweating buckets, in spite of the air conditioning running full-tilt in Major Jorn's office. "Okay, Captain," said the latter. "Let me see if I have this straight. You, and your two soldiers, armed, and armored, trained by the Academy, got your butts kicked by a _boy with a stick?_ "

Mirin had to admit, put that way, it did seem just a little unbelievable. "S-sir, all I can say is, you should've seen him move! I've _never_ seen anyone move like that! One second he was one place, and the next….I'm not exaggerating, sir!"

"Oh, I believe you. Sort of. You couldn't _possibly_ make up a more embarrassing story to tell, to account for your defeat and loss of your materials. Even if you'd been drunk or stoned out of your minds, or, or with a woman, that would've been a better explanation than _this._ " He threw the thick sheaf of papers into the tray labeled "outgoing." "The only question is, what am I supposed to do about it?"

"I…I have no idea, sir." Mirin stood at attention, his helmet held under his arm. He had no clue as to what was about to happen. This had never happened before, not like this. And Jorn wasn't known as being a forgiving sort.

 _He'll probably ship me off to some ice planet somewhere. He knows I hate the cold._

Major Jorn thumbed a switch on his desk, and spoke rapidly. He detailed the incident, noting the description of the young man. "All personnel are to be on the lookout for anyone answering to this description. Bring him in, and bring him in alive, for questioning." He paused, while the transcribed words flickered across the terminal's screen in front of him. "As of now, this matter takes top priority, second only to the level one orders we received last week." Then he shut off the mike and turned to Mirin. "Now. As to you…"

"Yes, sir." _Ice planet, here I come. Plus demotion._

"I'm putting you and your men in charge of a special detail to find our young acrobat. You'll be delegated full authority to investigate this matter; bring him in alive. He evidently has no fear of the Empire; we're about to change that.

"So consider this a chance at redemption, soldier. And, completely off the record, _don't_ screw it up. If you do, I'm told the garrison at Orto Plutonia needs a replacement latrine officer. The last one got eaten. By a latrine. I've heard conflicting reports as to how _that_ happened, but that's what the official report said, and I'm not in any position to question it.

"Is this understood?"

Mirin could hardly believe his ears. A second chance? "Uh, s-sir? I…" he floundered. This wasn't like the legendary Major Jorn at all.

"You're wondering why I'm giving you this second chance?" Maybe Jorn _did_ have telepathic powers.

"The….thought had crossed my mind, sir."

"The Empire spent a lot of credits training and equipping you and your men. Throwing that away because of one incident would be wasteful, in my opinion. _Perhaps_ unnecessarily so. Plus, I don't want it noised about that some of our elite troops got their asses kicked by a boy with a stick. I demote you, ship you out, that's the rumor that'd be sure to circulate. And that's bad for morale _and_ for public relations alike.

"So I'm _promoting_ you. Special Detail. Find this guy, bring his ass in. Simple. Uncomplicated. You'll have to try really hard to screw this up. _Don't._ You won't get another chance.

"So the next time I see you, I'm going to expect you to have a prisoner. I don't care what state he's in, so long as he's alive and able to be questioned. Everything else is glassware."

Mirin snapped to full attention, saluting. "Sir, yes, sir!"

"That will be all. You may go, Captain."

 _To be continued…._


	4. Chapter 4: A Mission, and A Tragedy

Teen Titans / Star Wars Crossover: A Galaxy Far, Far Away

Chapter 4: A Mission, and Tragedy

…

 _A collaboration between Edgar H. Sutter and myself. Neither of us owns any part of the Teen Titans or Star Wars franchise._

… _._

Chapter 4: A Mission, and Tragedy

Ben's hut, Tatooine: Luke was still getting used to having woken up in Old Ben's hut, and meeting the astonishing and astonishingly attractive young woman called _Raven._ He didn't have all that much experience with women in general, but something about her both fascinated and repelled him at the same time. Several times, he'd had to yank his attention back to what Ben was saying. _I must look like seven different kinds of kook to her._

Raven had taken another of her long walks into the desert. Ben supposed that the Tusken raiders may have presented some danger, but, in all honesty, he'd never met anyone, not even his former pupil, who was now known as Darth Vader, who was more capable of taking care of herself. Besides, he'd already told her of the danger, and this had not served to make her more cautious. If anything, she seemed more eager. This…worried him.

Luke was reconnecting C3PO's arm. "My father wasn't a warrior; he was freighter pilot."

"That's what your uncle wanted you to believe. He didn't hold with your father's ideals; he felt he should stay out of the conflict." Ben sighed.

"If you don't mind, Master Luke," interjected C3PO, "I'll shut down now, to conserve battery power."

"Certainly, uh, 3PO." Luke was still becoming used to these newer, more sophisticated droids; they actually seemed to have personalities. The ones he'd worked with previously had been basically just machines.

"But conflict has a way of finding us, whether we look for it or not," Ben continued. "But yes, your father was perhaps the greatest star pilot in the galaxy, and a cunning warrior. And," he mused, his eyes closing momentarily in remembered pain, "a good friend. I understand you've become a pretty good pilot yourself. You see, Luke, I had more than a passing acquaintance with your father. He was actually my pupil. I'm the 'Obi Wan Kenobi' mentioned in the message." He paused, obviously pulling himself out of a past he'd tried to forget.

Luke's eyes grew big. "But…but Uncle Owen told me Obi Wan Kenobi was dead!"

"Dead? Well, I suppose in a manner of speaking, I was. I left my previous life behind, and came here, to start afresh. For certain reasons that I shan't go into, I chose to call myself 'Ben Kenobi.' But, yes, many years ago, I was known as Obi Wan Kenobi.

"And that reminds me, Luke. I've something for you, something your father wanted you to have when you came of age. Your uncle didn't want you to have it; too afraid you'll follow old Obi Wan off on some damfool quest or something." He went over to a wooden chest, opened it, and drew forth a cylinder of some shiny metal, with ribs and knobs worked into it. To Luke, it resembled a very high quality flashlight.

"What is it?"

"It's your father's lightsaber." He handed it to Luke. "Be careful with it, now." The controls were obvious; he touched a button and a glowing beam of energy sprang from the end of the cylinder. He swung it back and forth, experimentally, getting a feel for the weapon and how it worked. Could this have really been his father's? His father…a Jedi Knight? "It's the weapon of the Jedi knights, more potent than a blaster. An elegant weapon, from a more civilized day.

"For over a thousand generations the Jedi knights were the guardians of the peace and justice, in the Old Republic." His face took on a faraway look that Luke failed to notice, being too busy swinging the beam back and forth, experimentally. How did it work, he wondered. How did they manage to keep the energy in an apparently solid or semi-solid state like that? Some sort of confinement field, maybe? "Before the dark times," Ben continued, seeing nothing of the world about him. "Before the Empire."

Luke was still trying to grasp the story he'd been told. He'd always thought his father had lived an unremarkable life…or so he'd been told. He switched off the beam and sat down by Ben. "How…How did my father die?"

Ben seemed to think for a moment. Then, "A young Jedi knight, another pupil of mine, until he turned to evil, called Darth Vader, helped the Empire hunt down and destroy the Jedi." He turned to look Luke full in the face. "He betrayed and murdered your father. Now the Jedi are all but extinct. Vader was seduced by the dark side of the Force."

"The Force?" Luke had never encountered that term before.

Ben seemed to perk up. "The Force is what gives the Jedi his power. The best way to describe it is, it's an energy field created by all living things, that surrounds us, penetrates us, and binds the galaxy together." Luke stared, enraptured. His father, a Jedi Knight? Of the Old Republic? Why hadn't Uncle Owen told him?

Ben turned to R2 D2. Luke was just finishing up reconnecting C3PO. "Now, let's see about this message."

"I saw part of it, earlier…." But the table top came alive as the holographic image sprang into existence again:

" _Obi Wan Kenobi. Years ago, you served with my father in the Clone Wars. Now he begs you to help him in his struggle. I regret that I am unable to present my father's request to you in person, but my ship has fallen under attack, and I'm afraid my mission to bring you to Alderaan has failed. I've placed information vital to the rebellion in the memory systems of this R2 unit. My father will know how to access them. You must see that this droid gets safely to him on Alderaan."_ The recording of the young woman pleaded, _"Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope."_ Then, suddenly, she looked around, bent towards the projector, pressed a control button, and the message vanished.

Both of them sat, each digesting the message in his own way. Luke couldn't help but feel some connection to the young woman in the message. But how? He knew he'd never seen her.

Ben studied Luke a moment. "You must learn the ways of the Force, Luke, if you are to accompany me to Alderaan."

Luke started. "Wait, what? _Alderaan?_ You mean, like, on the other side of the galaxy Alderaan? _That_ Alderaan? I can't go to Alderaan; I've got to be getting back…" He got up and paced.

"I need your help, Luke." Ben looked up at him. " _She_ ," he nodded towards the space occupied moments before by the hologram. "needs your help. I'm getting too old for this sort of thing."

Luke dithered. "Look, I can't help. It's not that I like the Empire or anything, I hate it, but, but I can't do anything!"

"That's your uncle talking, Luke. One man, one person, can make a difference. Sometimes all the difference in the world."

….

Raven came back into Ben's dwelling, feeling equal parts frustrated and relieved. Frustrated, because she could not, even with all her power, find any link, any possible way back to Earth, the world she knew. And relieved, because she was rapidly coming to the conclusion that, of all the Titans, she was alone on this world.

That, she liked to believe, meant that the others were safe and sound back on Earth, probably wondering what had happened to her. Well, better that than they be scattered all over this insane galaxy, caught up in the middle of…whatever this was. War? Rebellion? Well, she couldn't very well wish that upon them. (But there was another fear: that, yes, she alone may well have been teleported, but the others had been harmed, in some way, by the effect, whatever it was. She preferred to believe that wasn't the case. Starfire had once told her of a saying of her people: "Either eat the whole cake or none. There is no point in-between." So she preferred to believe they were safe.

And why, she wondered, did her fears seem to center around Beast Boy? Had he been harmed? In spite of her iron self-control, the vision kept coming to her mind of him lying, broken and bleeding, on the floor of the museum. She tried to recall if he'd been close to the, the….effect, whatever it was, but couldn't quite remember. It bothered her. She didn't know why it bothered her, and that bothered her even more, a never-ending cycle of botheration.)

At her entry, Luke almost snapped to attention. Raven's eyes wandered over him, lingering, for just a moment, on his face and shoulders, or so it seemed to Ben. Almost as though she were comparing him to somebody.

Ben sighed. It was pretty obvious young Luke was enthralled by Raven, and he could understand it. He'd been young himself, once. And he'd not failed to notice the dark forces, completely separate from the Force he served, either dark or light, circling and swirling around Raven. He hoped against hope nothing ill would come of them, but experience had taught him to be ready for the worst.

Raven noticed the new scent of ozone in the air, and noted the strange device hanging from Luke's belt. Probably a connection there. _Boys and their toys._ She didn't really care either way. "Have you," she began, addressing Ben directly, "decided on when you will be going to this 'Anchorhead'?"

"Young Luke, here, and I were just discussing it." He turned back to Luke. "Luke, we really need you to accompany us to Alderaan." Raven's eyebrow rose a bit. Where was this "Alderaan," and why would she be going to it? The agreement she'd come to with Obi Wan (she'd thought) had said nothing about any "Alderaan."

"I told you, I can't! It's not that I don't, don't want to," his eyes glanced over at Raven. Ben noticed how careful Luke was not to let his gaze pass over her chest, and smiled an inner smile. Young people… "But I have chores to do! I really need to be getting back to the farm. I mean, look." He steadied his stance there, reaching a decision, "I, I can't say I disagree with you, about, about needing help. I might be able to get you as far as Anchorhead—I've got to go there anyway. I've delivered your droid to you, but 3PO still needs, uhm, attention." C3PO had shut himself down a few moments before to conserve batter power, but Luke was still hesitant to bring up the memory wipe process in his presence. Even though it was a painless and often necessary procedure, sometimes some droids reacted in an almost emotional way to it. He'd explain to C3PO later the necessity of it; it was akin to a recovery process after a reformatting of a computer. Just a de-cluttering procedure; nothing of 3PO would be lost. Nothing important, anyway. But there was no point in worrying the droid unnecessarily at this time.

Ben came to a decision. "Raven, perhaps it would explain things a bit better to you, if you saw the message I've just received. Here," and he directed her to a small alcove, and set up R2 D2 to show her the holographic message. Then he took Luke aside. "Luke, this is very important. I can't explain how or why it is, but it may well be the most important decision you've ever made. You saw the message; you know the rebel alliance in is deep trouble. They're our only hope of ever throwing off the yoke of the Empire. I know your uncle has told you to not get involved, but, Luke, it's been my experience that, in many cases, involvement comes to you. And when that happens, you're usually completely unprepared for the encounter. It's best to meet it head on."

Luke shook his head. This was exactly what his uncle had told him: don't go around Old Ben, he'll lead you into some crazy scheme you don't need to get involved in. Uncle Owen had been right about that; what else might he be right about? "I just can't do it. You've got your droid; I've got to take 3PO and get back to the farm. I've been gone too long as it is."

"What seems to be the issue?" said Raven, looking from one to the other.

Ben turned to her almost reluctantly. Raven had changed, in just the short time he'd known her, and not for the better. He wasn't sure as to the reason for the change, but he had his suspicions.

And if his suspicions were true, _Raven_ was one he really needed to leave behind, here, in the backwaters of the Empire. "Young Luke here feels as though he should be getting back home." A brief glance at Luke, who'd just then torn his gaze away from Raven. "I cannot say I blame him, but I was telling him how much we could use his help."

Raven studied the boy. He was surely not much older than Garfield, back home. And why did she keep thinking of Beast Boy? He was nothing but a nuisance… "Why does he have to come along at all? If this 'Empire' you mentioned is going to be a factor, then there is no reason to expose him to danger. It would be no place for amateurs." Luke visibly bridled at this. She appeared not to notice.

"I was not thinking of the danger so much as I was of Luke's need to learn the ways of the Force. For I foresee a great role for him in the upcoming battle. A battle for which he will need to prepare."

Raven gave out the faintest snort. "Ah. I see." She looked Luke over like one would a particularly defective mechanism. "If this battle is of such great importance, and, from what you have said, of such _imminence_ , then perhaps this kid," to which Luke once again bridled, ever so slightly, still intimidated by the girl in the dark clothing, "should seek his training in a more…stable environment." Now Luke was visibly annoyed; he wasn't that much younger than Raven herself.

He crossed his arms, and refused to look at her. "I can take care of myself."

"No offense intended, but I seem to recall you having a bit of difficulty not all that long ago."

"Enough," interjected Ben. "Whether or not Luke does indeed accompany us to Alderaan—excuse me, Raven, accompany _me_ to Alderaan—he is of age, and is therefore perfectly capable of making his own decisions on the matter. And I cannot, in good conscience, ask him to simply abandon his duties to his family here. But, Luke," he turned to Luke, "I would ask you if you would, to get us to Anchorhead."

…

"Man, I am _so hungry,_ " Beast Boy moaned. They'd been in this city—if you could call it that—of Mos Eisely for two days now, and so far, neither of them had had anything substantial to eat.

Of water there was some. Though initially cautious about trying it, due to the possibility of micro-organisms their bodies were not adapted to, the public wells nonetheless proved to be perfectly safe, if a bit fetid for their taste. _I guess that's how natural water tastes,_ thought Cyborg, even as he made a face while drinking some. Nobody seemed to care if they availed themselves of the wells.

Food was another matter.

Neither of them had anything like the necessary currency to actually purchase anything. Garfield had some money, and Victor had his debit card, but neither was any good here, of course. And all Gar had was paper money, anyway—completely useless here.

There were no outdoor cafes, or anything of a similar nature, where they could sit. Apparently, when people were outdoors and wish to sit, they simply chose somewhere which appeared to be relatively safe, out of the way, and comfortable—e.g., the side of a building—and sat there. It reminded Cyborg of the old movies he'd seen, about the days of the old west, back on Earth, of people sitting around, drowsing in the sun, their massive sombreros hiding their features. "I know, Gar, but I don't know what to do about it." Victor Stone, aka Cyborg, was coming to the conclusion that this was going to become a serious problem. One thing the movies don't prepare you for was that, on other planets, you have to be able to _procure_ certain things, items necessary to survival, on alien worlds. Somehow the heroes always managed to either overcome that, or bypass it altogether.

 _Should'a been mentioned,_ thought Vic. _At least then, we might would'a had a better idea what to do._ But, of course, zapped across creation like they had been, there would have been no time to prepare in any case. Even though he, himself, being mostly mechanical, didn't require as much actual food as Garfield did, still, he required some. And he was feeling the need for certain maintenance items for his mechanical parts; while he'd been designed to be as independent as science could possibly make him, he still had some needs. And he knew his completely-biological buddy was truly suffering.

They had looked for the equivalent of dumpsters here, or even food items simply discarded, but, curiously, there didn't seem to be any. And both had firmly decided that they would not stoop to the level of stealing food. _If I'm gonna go to Hell,_ thought Victor, _it's at least gonna be for something more than a donut._

If this kept up, they'd both be reduced to scavenging in the local hillsides, and that raised another problem: Garfield would not eat meat, even assuming they found something of an edible nature. Cyborg might not have quite so much trouble with that, but even he grew slightly nauseous at the notion of killing and eating the local equivalent of an iguana.

They were currently seated against the shaded side of the "Civic Center," as Vic had taken to calling, without any derision. _It's not their fault, these people here. There's just nothing to be had._ He was wracking his brain, trying to come up with some way of getting some food.

So lost in thought was he, that he didn't even see the being approaching him. The creature was, of course, not human, but was reasonably close to humanoid, and he was walking right up to them. Alongside him was a silver droid reminiscent of the golden protocol droid C3PO. The alien paused in front of them. _"Ahem._ "

Immediately, both Victor's and Garfield's attention was fixed on him. The being had obviously singled them out… "Yes?" said Cyborg.

The being spoke, a warbling language that the silver droid translated. "It has come to the attention of my master that you two are strangers here."

"Oh? Who is your master? For that matter, who are you?"

"I am known as Fortuna Bib. My master is the Esteemed Lord Jabba the Hutt. He would like to have a word with the two of you."

Vic and Gar looked at each other. This meeting had an odd feel to it, a rather palpable negative vibe. "About what?"

"That will have to wait until you are in the presence of my master."

Victor thought, and thought deeply. He looked at Garfield, who looked back and shrugged, slightly. _Your call._

Again, Fortuna Bib cleared his throat, which Cyborg was coming to recognize as a theatrical gesture, a gesture to politely request their attention. So, points for that. He guessed. "I am told," Bib continued, once he made sure he had their attention, through the translator droid, "That there will be food involved."

Neither of them had to be asked twice.

The place they were directed to was a large building built, seemingly, into the side of a mountain. Fortuna Bib identified it as Jabba's "business office." Cyborg's extended vision followed the cavity; it continued on into the area under the mountain itself. A defensive measure, perhaps? A ready-made bolt hole? Victor could see it; it reminded him of a miniature version of Helm's Deep, in the movie, _The Two Towers,_ back home.

 _Hm._ _Come to think of it,_ he asked himself, _are we maybe living in some movie? All this seems….oddly familiar somehow._

 _But no, that's ridiculous._

Entering the main room, which, compared to the rest of the town they'd seen, was downright opulent, with curtains seemingly made of silk or its local equivalent, soft throw cushions everywhere, and various valuable looking and well-crafted pieces of furniture scattered about, they saw many different kinds of creatures milling about, most of them more or less humanoid, to one degree or another. But over and above all that was the creature who was obviously in charge, and who could be none other than the "Esteemed Lord Jabba the Hutt."

Both Titans had to suppress their first impressions, which was to gag. Jabba looked like what Beast Boy would later describe as "an animated pile of shit," and smelled about the same, even though attendants moved throughout the room waving various and sundry long rods, from which depended smoldering braziers, spreading what Cyborg guessed was either incense or, in some way, the local equivalent of some sort of room deodorizers. _Well,_ thought Cyborg, _mine's not to judge. He—I guess it's a he—is an alien. He can't help being what he is._

The manlike Fortuna Bib went up to the massive Hutt, and addressed him directly, the droid still translating for them, even though this part of the conversation was clearly not intended for them. "Master, these are the ones you inquired about." And gestured towards Victor and Garfield.

A series of burbling rumbles issued forth from within the mass. _How are we supposed to communicate with this guy? There's not a Babel fish in sight._ Nor was there any food, they both noted.

But apparently, Fortuna Bib had already thought about the translation problem, for he turned to the silver translator droid, and instructed it in his language, which was not translated. Jabba rumbled some more, and the droid, after listening, spoke up. "My master, the Esteemed Lord Jabba the Hutt, says welcome. His chefs are preparing your repast. Simply have a seat wherever you find comfortable. The attendants will bring it in shortly."

Within the space of thirty Earth minutes, the attendants—although alien, these were obviously female, and, to a one, wearing some sort of brass-knurled bikini tops, with rust-red skirts split far up their legs, trailing near the floor—began to bring in both some low folding tables, and several steaming covered platters of food, which they placed upon the tables. Cyborg's face twisted slightly. These had to be for their benefit; Jabba was much too far removed from humanity to find humanoid females attractive, and the females' attire bespoke of a deliberate attempt at distraction, at the very least. Though Vic could easily see how, should matters take certain turns, said attendants might "attend" to needs other than dinner. For himself, he didn't see it. And, with a smirk, he realized that the same held true for his companion, as none of the attendants were wearing a navy blue hooded cape, shrouding purple hair cut in an "A" frame. "My master says to help yourself," said the droid. "His chefs have certified that this food is safe for your biosytems, though he cannot, of course, guarantee taste."

Garfield fell on the first platter before Cyborg could stop him. He scooped out some of the contents out onto a plate he was provided—and paused. "Uh, Cy?"

"Yeah, Gar?" Victor already knew what his green friend was about to say.

"Do you suppose this is…you know…vegetarian? I mean…"

Cyborg sighed, and scooped some food out of another dish onto his plate. "Gar…I'm afraid this is gonna haveta be a case of 'not looking a gift horse in the mouth.' I don't know if it's vegan or not, but right now, it's a matter of survival, don'tcha think?"

"Yeah, but…" Beast Boy had a life-long aversion to eating anything he could turn into. Since he could turn into any animal, that meant he had to embrace a vegetarian lifestyle. Anything else would have felt like cannibalism to him.

"So you may as well eat up. It may not taste like much—be a miracle if it did—but beggars can't be choosers. Besides," he said brightly, already crunching down on a mouthful of his oddly colored food, which actually, to his surprise, tasted pretty good, "I'm pretty sure it's nobody you know."

While they were eating, Cyborg's senses ranged around the spacious room. Yes, compared to what he'd seen of the rest of the town, this was opulence at its finest. However, he was reminded of the splendor that some crime lords and dictators surrounded themselves with…this place would fit that to a "T." He had a strong hunch that Jabba's hands (he did have hands, didn't he? Yes, Victor noticed some limbs ending in recognizable hands) weren't clean, as far as the law went. That is, whatever was or served as the law around these parts.

They ate more and more, with the servant girls bringing in new dishes to replace the old ones. As predicted, there were some whose taste were not agreeable to the two Earthlings, and they had to politely decline, but for the most part, Jabba's chefs had evidently crafted well. The whole time they were eating, Victor noted that the Hutt was watching them intently. Cyborg had already scanned the food for possible poisons and nanothreats, but there had been nothing of the sort, at least nothing he could detect, he cautioned himself.

But perhaps it was nothing as overt as that. Victor found himself wondering what just watching them could be telling the monstrous being who was their host. What could the creature deduce about them, say, just from the way they ate?

They had both long since agreed that, should things take a turn for the worse, to try everything possible, every diplomatic response right up until brute force was absolutely necessary. They didn't know who or what this "Jabba the Hutt" was; for all they knew, he might represent the legitimate authorities, to some degree. But, from what Victor was gathering, it seemed like the opposite was probably true.

He couldn't imagine the legit authorities as entertaining guests with feasts served by slave girls. Though of course, this _was_ an alien planet. So anything was possible.

They finished up, and both of them thanked their host for the delicious repast. "Ah, yes. My master is pleased that you appreciated his humble efforts," said Fortuna Bib, through the translator-droid. "Now. To business." He rubbed his hands together.

"My master has noticed you, and taken note of the fact that you are recent arrivals here. Where you came from is not important. But you possess skills, abilities, that intrigue him, and could come in very handy on a certain task he has in mind."

"Okay," said Victor. "We're listening."

"I don't know exactly how conversant you are with matters as they stand, here in the Empire, but there have been….rumors of some serious changes being brought into play. Changes that could easily threaten my master's….business interests.

"So my master would like to hire you to, well, to do a little research for him, so to speak. For obvious reasons," and here he nodded to the massive Hutt, "he cannot do it himself, and there is only so much that can be done…from a distance, by more...conventional operatives, shall we say.

"My master would like to hire you to investigate a most troubling rumor, one that could conceivably affect, not only his business interests, but, very possibly, everyone in the galaxy."

Cyborg nodded. _Dramatic much?_ But it was beginning to make sense. "So…what he's asking is, he wants us to be his _spies_?"

"It might be more accurate to say 'his agents,' for you need not be acting completely on your own. You both have unique qualities that would enable you to acquire this information. He knows, for example, that not only are you an advanced-degree cybernetically enhanced human, but your comrade is capable of shape-shifting. This could prove…invaluable to him.

"And, of course, the pay would be commensurate in direct proportion to the danger involved. Which is to say, in all honesty, quite a lot." And here, he turned back to Jabba for a moment, as the Hutt uttered some more of the guttural gobbling that served him for speech. "Oh, my." Fortuna Bib turned back to them, surprise evident on his face. "My master is being…very generous. Yes, very generous indeed," the translator-droid relayed. "Extr _aordinarily_ generous."

 _Which only mean we're more likely to get killed, and not necessarily by this "Empire."_

….

Ben's hut: After some negotiation, Luke had agreed to get them as far as Anchorhead. There, he would drop them off, conduct his own business, and return to the farmhouse. "But I need to go let Uncle Owen know I'll be gone for a while. He's been wanting me to take these droids—this droid, I mean to say—in for adjustment for some time now, anyway. So, let me go back and reassure him that I'm alright, and will be back as soon as I can."

"Thank you, Luke. I really can't ask more."

Luke made as if to go. "3PO? Come along."

"Wait," said Raven. "I'm coming with you."

"You don't have to," said Luke, just this side of curtly. Whatever attraction he'd felt towards the dark girl was rapidly becoming subsumed beneath his irritation with her and her attitude.

"I know I don't _have_ to," said Raven. "But your last foray into the desert didn't end especially well for you. I know, I know: you can take care of yourself. But an extra set of eyes to watch your back isn't an insult, surely."

Grumbling, he acquiesced. "Alright." He hoped Aunt Beru didn't start her usual match-making when she saw Raven; Luke had already experienced _that_ , several times over. And he could think of few people he'd less prefer to be paired with, than _Raven._ "Come on, then."

Raven rode on the passenger side of Luke's landspeeder. It really was an enjoyable ride, actually; had she not been so focused on returning home, she could have enjoyed the trip. The desert flew past. So. This was Tatooine, was it?

Luke didn't seem to be much conversationalist. So on the way, she decided she needed to break down some barriers. Perhaps she'd been a bit harsh with the boy. "You've lived here all your life?"

"Tatooine, you mean? Yeah. Ever since I can remember, I mean. I don't really know where I was born. Guess it doesn't matter."

"What about your parents?"

Almost immediately, she sensed him closing up, not wishing to discuss something. Okay, she'd stepped over a line, evidently. "Don't know that much about them. Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru are the only family I've ever known.

"What about you?"

She leaned back, the wind blowing past her, her short hair streaming behind her. This actually felt kind of good. There really wasn't a whole lot of pleasure in Raven's life. "There's a lot of what I suppose you'd call a 'long story.' But the short version is, I come from a planet called Earth. I'm a sorceress there, a member of a group of crimefighters called the Teen Titans. During the course of a robbery, I found myself teleported here, wherever 'here' is. I can't find any mention of Earth or anything else familiar, so I can only guess I must have been teleported a very long way."

"I see. What about your family?"

"I've a mother, who lives in an alternate dimension. My father…well, the less said about him, the better."

Luke grunted. Then, "Hey, look. Those look like sandcrawler tracks."

"Sandcrawler?"

"Yeah, what the Jawas roam around the desert in. They roam around this desert, finding and collecting anything and everything of value. And of course, selling it at a profit. But I wonder what they're doing out here? The only sandcrawler I know of, in this area, is the one that recently came by my place." He slowed the 'speeder, trying to see where the tracks led. For some reason, it struck him as important. "I need to have a word with them. They sold us that R2 unit, and it actually belonged to Ben. So I think we're due a refund." He altered the landspeeder's course. "This shouldn't take but a moment."

Just over the next ridge, they could both clearly see the massive sandcrawler, not moving. But something about it rang some warning bells in Raven's mind. "Wait, Luke. Something's wrong." She extended her senses…and found no life forms in or around the sandcrawler. "Something's very wrong."

They moved closer, Luke throttling down the landspeeder to a walking pace. Now, up close like this, they could see the scorch marks on the vehicle, see the bodies of the Jawas lying around it. "What the-?" He brought the landspeeder to a complete halt.

Raven stepped out, her every sense extended to the max. No, she could sense no life forms…at least, none living any longer. "Luke…this is trouble."

Luke was taking it all in. The sandcrawler had been subjected to heavy fire, the treads cut off by blaster fire, and the armor punctured in several places. And the dead Jawas…"Raven, maybe we shouldn't be here."

"On that we can agree. But first, let me see something…." She stood for a moment, head inclined downward, eyes closed, hands in front of her as though _pushing_ on something, reaching out with her senses…

"Can…can you tell who did this?"

For a long moment, she didn't reply. Then, "This wasn't any casual encounter. These 'Sand People' of yours…this is not of their doing." She felt some more. "I'm sensing an orderly and systematic operation. Whoever did this was a professional. Or a group of professionals."

Luke looked around himself, bewildered. "But…but why? You say it wasn't the Sand People? Who else could it have been?"

She brought her head back up. "Luke. Who else has the sort of firepower to do this kind of thing?"

"Only, only the Empire. But why would they come after the Jawas?"

Again Raven closed her eyes and concentrated. "I'm sensing dissatisfaction, disappointment. Whoever they were, they were looking for something. Something specific. Something they didn't find."

"But…but…!" It suddenly struck him. "The, the _droids_? But, but _why_? I mean, _how_? I mean, I mean…" He was struck speechless.

At that moment, Raven had a flash of intuition. She turned to Luke. "Luke. You need to get home. _Right now._ "

The kilometers passed quickly beneath the 'speeder as Luke and Raven sped towards the Lars' farmhouse, Raven, as always, calm and controlled, Luke, a seething mass of emotions, primarily worry.

They were just about to top the rise beyond which lay the farmhouse, when Raven suddenly reached over and put a hand on Luke's arm. "Luke! Stop this car! Right now!"

"But, but-*"

" _Stop it right now!_ " Such was the authority in her voice that he automatically obeyed, hauling hard on the grav-brakes.

Raven got out of the car and ran up the side of the dune separating them from the farmhouse. Annoyed with her as he was, he couldn't help but notice her perfectly proportioned legs, visible when the wind blew her cape aside, pumping as she ascended the hill. "Master Luke?" said worried C3PO. "What's wrong?"

"I, I don't know yet." He got out of the car and followed Raven up towards the top of the rise.

But she had already topped it, and looked down. She stared at whatever was on the other side for a long, long moment, it seemed to Luke, as he struggled up the sandy side of the rise.

She turned to him, came back down a ways towards him, and he saw something new in her eyes, something he hadn't seen before: compassion and concern. "Luke." She put up a hand to impede his progress. "Luke, don't go up there. You…you don't need to see.…it."

He stared at her, momentarily not believing. "I, I've got to, Raven! I've got to get home! Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru…!"

"Luke." She made a visible effort to calm herself. "You don't need to go up there. There…there's nothing left."

A cold chill, like a bucket of ice water upended over his head, spread over him. "Are…are…" He couldn't get the words out. He couldn't even formulate the concept. "I, I have to get… There…there might be, be…someone…" His lips felt numb.

She dropped her eyes, her gaze gentle and kind for the first time since he'd laid eyes on her. "No, Luke. There's…there's no survivors." She'd seen the charred bodies, sensed the complete lack of life.

He stood for a moment, his eyes on the top of that rise, but whether thinking or just frozen, even she couldn't tell. Then, he turned back to her, determination on his face. "Raven. I _have_ to go see. For my own sake."

She recognized his feeling for what it was: he had to see, he had to know. And he had to feel the pain that he alone could feel, that he _should_ feel. No one could shield him from this, for it was his, and his alone. "Alright." She moved aside so he could resume his climb to the top.

A scene of devastation awaited him. There was nothing left standing, save perhaps a wall here and there. Even the droids had been blasted apart. He looked over to the side. A charred arm protruded from the ash heap that had been the only home he'd ever known.

It was like his cognitive processes shut down. He couldn't think; even his feelings were numb. Later on, he'd recognize it for what it was: shock. Right then, all he could feel was a kind of bleak numbness.

She came up alongside him, and gently took his arm. "Come on, Luke. Let's go." Still numb, he let her lead him back to the landspeeder.

"Master Luke! What-*" began 3PO.

"Sh," said Raven, leading Luke around to the landspeeder. Then she did something he never would have thought she'd do: she reached up and embraced him, the folds of her cape enshrouding him, drawing his head down towards her shoulder. "Let it out, Luke. Just…let it out."

He did.

…

"So…." Cyborg rubbed his chin. "You want us to get the technical specs for this, this 'Death Star'? From what you say, it's the Empire's most heavily guarded, most top-secret project."

More burbling, rumbling from Jabba. The silver translator droid turned to the hulking mass of the Hutt, and the two heroes could almost swear they saw a surprised expression cross its face. "Oh, my. This is unprecedented. My master wishes to speak with you directly."

Huh? "How?"

"I will continue to translate, but the words you hear will be precisely and exactly what my master says. You will, in effect, be hearing his voice, through me."

"Uh…okay." What was this all about?

The translator droid hesitated a moment longer, as more burblings and rumblings issued forth from Jabba. Then, a different voice issued from the translator-droid, one deeper than they'd previously heard: "Greetings. I am known colloquially as 'Jabba the Hutt.' It is an honor to make your acquaintance."

"We're…pleased to meet you, too." _May as well be polite; we've no reason not to._

"Perhaps you are wondering why I wish to retain your services. If so, permit me to elaborate.

"One, you are strangers here, and thus have no preconceived, or preconditioned, loyalty to the Empire, which, I can assure you, and as your own experience will verify, merits little.

Two, as strangers here, you represent an unknown element in this equation. I've found, over the years, that unknown elements, properly analyzed beforehand, of course, can be most useful, particularly in matters where discretion is called for.

"As you have been told, this 'Death Star' represents a distinct and definite danger to my business interests, as does the change in policy shift. Previously, there was a Senate through which all the Empire's proposals were deliberated upon before being made into law. Now the Emperor will be the sole author and judge of policy. And the Emperor is, I must stress, a largely unknown and somewhat chaotic element. So, yes, not only are my business interests potentially in jeopardy, but so, too, those of everyone else.

"The Death Star will be the method of enforcement of Imperial will, and, as strong rumor has it, its primary means of such enforcement will be the destruction of entire populated worlds." He stopped there a moment, while they digested that.

"Whoa," said Garfield, "This thing can destroy _whole planets?_ How?"

"The exact how is unknown. That is why I wish to employ the two of you. Perhaps if its primary ordnance can be analyzed, a defense could be developed against it. Even a partial defense would be better than nothing."

Cyborg was looking off, thoughtfully. "Yeah….yeah, I can see how something the size you told us would be able to generate enough power to take out a planet. But what's more disturbing to me, is why this 'Empire' would feel the need to come up with such a monster. I mean, whole worlds? That's a bit of an overkill."

"In this, we think alike," responded Jabba. "It is a weapon of fear, pure and simple, meant to terrorize all into meek submission. There can be no other purpose for such a thing. Matters of morality aside, from a purely practical point of view, its use is highly wasteful, not only of lives, but of planetary resources.

"I am not telling you anything you haven't already deduced when I say that my business interests are not, shall we say, not _completely_ legal, at least, in accords with Imperial law. Nonetheless, I am sure you can see that even the most legitimate businesses, not to mention the populace in general, are certainly threatened by having the entire planet violently removed from beneath them. I have access to considerable resources. It is my belief—my fervent hope—that, working with you, we might be able to develop something, some way to counter this terror-weapon, at least in part.

"Whether or not you find yourself in agreement with _all_ my business ventures, I feel certain we can agree on this one thing: the Death Star represents a threat to all, individually and as a whole.

"In return, aside from the compensation you will receive, I promise to devote my organization to searching for your friends."

Cyborg started. "Our friends?"

"Comrades, compadres, associates. I have many eyes and ears; you have been searching for certain people, also recently arrived, have you not?"

Again Cyborg thought. Beast Boy sat beside him, looking around. Something about this whole setup—he just couldn't help but feel he'd _been_ here before.

Cyborg thought. It was quite true, everything Jabba had said rang true. The Hutt had even made no secret of his…less than legal maneuverings. So…more points for that.

And he was right. This "Death Star" was a weapon of sheer terror. It wasn't a device that would enforce the law; it was a device to ensure you _couldn't_ _disobey_ the law. A similar analogy would be if a corrupt police force, back on Earth, had been granted and authorized the use of tactical nuclear weapons, to be used at the discretion of some faceless authority in Washington. There was no excuse for such a weapon in any culture that sought justice.

And practical matters: they did need some way of getting by here. Plus….he had to admit to himself, even if they were completely on their own, this "Death Star" sounded like something they'd want to take down. Now they were being offered, not only the chance, but access to the resources to do so.

(And, although it went against his innate sense of honor, there was nothing to say that they _had_ to turn said plans, once acquired, over to Jabba. Or at least, not the _whole_ plans….) "Where, exactly, is this Death Star now?" If it was behind multiple layers of Imperial security screens, it would be next to impossible to get to it.

"Before I tell you that, I should let you know: there is a rebellion, a relatively small cadre of beings who have banded together to attempt to resist the Empire and its draconian ways. Their successes, so far, have been…limited, even by their own admission, and they are on the verge of eradication. Currently, their center of influence is on a greatly populated world called 'Alderaan,' one of the worlds in our region of space renowned for its civilization and quality of life for all upon it."

Cyborg felt a chill. He could guess what was coming next, but he still had to ask. "Aaaannd….you're telling us this because….?"

"Because the Death Star was last seen directly on course for Alderaan." Jabba shrugged, apparently a universal gesture between species. "There is really not much uncertainty as to what it will do once it gets there."

 _Right. No pressure._

After the humans had left, Fortuna Bib was walking with his master back towards the latter's personal quarters. "My Master, I cannot help but wonder how you knew they would accept your offer?"

Again Jabba shrugged. "I observed them eating. The large one, the cybernetically enhanced one, selected what he preferred, what agreed with his metabolism the most, and adhered rigorously to it, refusing to try other, spicier dishes. This indicated his dedication to order. My deduction is that he was an enforcer of order on the world, the society from which he came. Hence, I played to his feelings of justice, and order, which seems to be a major part of his personality.

"His smaller companion, however, sampled many things, frequently choosing his repast in the unusual, but within certain tolerable limits, of course. His dedication to the order his larger companion serves seemed less, as though he had acted, at least in the past, outside the confines of the laws of his society, but had chosen, perhaps recently, to act within it. Also, he deferred to his comrade. I noted their dedication to each other, as when they pointed out various tasty dishes to each other. They are clearly teammates.

"But both of them were deeply affected by the announcement of the Empire's terror-weapon, and by its stated capabilities. It was unnecessary even to lie; the unvarnished truth, which time will not overturn, was sufficient.

"And I noticed another thing. Although neither of them were truly tempted by our attendants, I noticed the way in which the green one examined the servant girls. Rather than look upon their bodies, as is normal for humanoids, he would fix his eyes upon their faces for the briefest of moments, then look away, with a very faint, almost imperceptible, shake of the head. To me, this indicates that he has deep, perhaps subconscious, feelings for a certain female, and continuously compares all others to her, to their detriment, of course, since they are _not_ her. Should we be able to find her, it would increase our leverage over him considerably. Perhaps we should make that a priority." The Hutt trailed off, rubbing the area where his chin would be contemplatively.

Fortuna Bib stood there in shock, his jaw literally hanging open. "My Lord! You deduced _all that_ from, from _watching them eat?_ "

"Of course," rumbled Jabba. "Didn't you?

 _To be continued…._

….


	5. Chapter 5: Danger

Teen Titans / Star Wars Crossover: A Galaxy Far, Far Away

Chapter 5: Danger

….

 _A collaboration between Edgar H. Sutter and myself. Neither of us owns any part of the Star Wars or Teen Titans franchise._

… _.._

Chapter 5: Danger

"I _know_ he came down this way," muttered Captain Mirin. He and his squad had been chasing the costumed vigilante that had so soundly defeated them not so long ago. Their last clue had been a shadowy figure sensed, more than seen, heading into a deserted alleyway.

"He won't get away this time, sir!" spoke up one of the other troops. "This is a dead end!"

 _It'll be a dead end for him,_ thought Mirin, then quashed the thought immediately. His CO's orders were very specific: he was to bring the troublemaker in alive. Though what condition he was in aside from that was left up to Mirin's discretion.

But the alley ended abruptly, with an overhang that seemed to preclude anyone climbing up over it. There was no sign of the fleeing shadow. " _Damn_ it! _How_ is he doing this?" Mirin had the faintest thought that maybe, just maybe they were _actually_ chasing shadows? But what else could they do? They'd offered rewards (usually a good way of getting leads, especially here on this poverty-stricken world), issued threats (also usually a good way, no matter where one was), followed up what few leads they had…and, always, been on the alert for any "vigilante" activity.

They left the alley, trying to look nonchalant. It wouldn't do if the general public glommed onto the notion that one single guy could give three trained and armed Imperial troops such a problem.

"Having a little problem?" said a hatefully familiar voice to Captain Mirin's left. Mirin turned, careful not to bring his weapon into a threatening position, and gestured to his troops to do the same. Looking like you posed a threat wouldn't be a good idea with this individual. No, it wouldn't be a good idea at all.

Boba Fett sauntered casually up to them. "Were I to go by your body language, I'd have to say you seem frustrated. Don't tell me three outstanding Imperial troops such as yourselves are having a problem with the natives. Or…one native, perchance?" Fett's voice left no doubt that he knew exactly what was going on.

Mirin chaffed under the demands of policy. Legally, he couldn't do anything to the bounty hunter, much as he might like to. "That's a matter of Imperial security. I am not at liberty to discuss that." _Certainly not with a stinking bounty hunter._

Boba Fett laughed, a seemingly genuine laugh. "Ah, well, excuse the question then. I certainly wouldn't want to compromise Imperial security. Of course," he paused, half turning away, "I suppose if matters get _too_ desperate…well, let's just say, _professional_ help is available. For the right price." The slight emphasis he put on the word _professional_ made Jaekal snarl.

 _I'd sooner part with my spinal column,_ thought Mirin. He turned, and gestured to his troops: _back away. Let's get going._ He certainly didn't want to force any confrontation with the bounty hunter right out there in public. They left, going back down the street the way they'd come.

Behind them, the man known as Boba Fett snickered inside his Mandalorian battle armor. _Amateurs._ Well, when they _really_ wanted results, they knew where to find him.

For now, he had another job shaping up.

…..

Space Battlestation IMBS3003: Darth Vader, the Dark Lord of the Sith, was in one of the main conference rooms, steadily looking out the live video feed from outside, which simulated a window. His dark gloved hands were clasped securely behind him, and he stood extremely still. Aside from the breathing sounds of his respirator, and his upright posture, an observer might have wondered if he was even alive.

The door _swished_ open, and an officer stepped in. His black uniform practically gleamed in the light of the room's light tubes. He came to a smart salute. "You wished to see me, my lord?"

"Yes," rumbled Vader. "I require the presence of Senator Organa again. And, although it may complicate matters somewhat, also the presence of her companion, the other female. The alien we found on her ship. And of course, you will take suitable precautions against the use of her powers."

The officer saluted again. "At once, sir! I'll send for them immed-*"

"They are not in the confinement cells."

The officer's breath went out from him, visibly deflating him somewhat. "*-Er, sir?"

"They have contrived to escape. Furthermore, I note that the guard detail whose task it was to see to their continued confinement has been…oddly derelict in doing so. This is more than a mere escape." The Dark Lord continued. "But regardless…I require their presence. See to it."

….

Troop Rec Area 131-A, the "Afterburner": It had been a long day. Governor Tarkin had ordered drill after drill, to make absolutely certain the battlestation's human component was at the peak of perfection. Technical crews had been working around the clock on the mechanical end, with the grunts serving as manual labor. Captain Sorm took off at the first chance he could. One more goddam drill, and he felt like he'd lose it.

He chanced to see Trooper Vanderk sitting on a low bench, with his helmet off and his head hanging down. "Tired, trooper?"

"Yes, sir." This said in such a way that Sorm knew exhaustion was not the problem. Sorm remembered that Vanderk had been with them when they pacified that rebel ship, the one with the strange alien girl on board that nobody seemed to be able to account for.

The one where they were ordered to shoot the rebels, whether said rebels were armed or not.

Sorm hesitated. If it had been anybody else in his outfit…but he knew this young man's family.

He sat down by the young stormtrooper, his own helmet cradled in his arm. "You know, you weren't on the bridge when we attacked the rebel transport," he said, quietly, conversationally. Just a couple of off-duty soldiers. "We sent them order after order to stand down and surrender, prepare to be boarded. The Captain practically begged them to. Well, for him it was begging. Not a word did they reply.

"So the order was given. Go in hot and find the data they stole. After boarding, we _couldn't_ let them surrender. It would have taken up at least two troopers for each rebel, and once the rebels saw their cause was lost, they'd no doubt destroy the data themselves, and maybe even the entire ship, to keep it from falling into our hands. So…" He spread his hands. He paused. Vanderk listened. He didn't say a word.

Sorm sighed, looked down at the floor. "You're too young to remember the Bad Days. The Jedi were the only law there was…if you wanna call it that. Law!" He practically spat. "The 'law' was whatever they said it was, and there was no appeal. Judge, jury, and executioners, all in one. Civilians caught up in personal vendettas between the so-called 'defenders of peace' and the Separatists, and their droid army. Not to mention that a passing Jedi could just take your kids away from you, all because he saw 'potential' in them, and you couldn't do a damned thing about it. And if he so chose, one of those…metaphysical thugs could just reach in and twist your mind inside out, make you do horrible things, even to your own family.

"It was because of men like Lord Vader that we don't have a Jedi boot on our throats today. He sacrificed a lot to save us all.

"Yeah, he's big and scary. But that's the way he had to be. That's the way they _all_ had to be. Because he didn't just direct the battle from behind. He _led the charge into battle himself._

"They were true heroes. They _are_ true heroes.

"And never forget: those dark days could come again. We still need heroes."

Vanderk thought long and hard about that. He could barely imagine living in days like those. It must have been horrible. And what Lord Vader and others had sacrificed to free them from Jedi tyranny… "Yes, sir. I…I see that now. I…was having some doubts, I guess. But…thank you, sir."

"Having doubts just means your mind is still your own. Never forget _that,_ either. And you're welcome."

….

"Okay," Garfield said, over a (hopefully) vegetarian dinner. Jabba's credit sticks had indeed made things a lot easier, even though they were both a little uneasy about using it, considering that it was, almost certainly, "dirty." "So how do we go about finding the plans for this 'Death Star'?" Even as he spoke, something tickled in the back of his mind. He couldn't quite grasp it; it was as elusive as a dream.

"We'll have to hire someone who's familiar with the territory, obviously." Cyborg shook his head. "Not to go to the Death Star, of course…that'd be like taking a taxi to a super villain battle. Don't wanna involve civilians." He sipped his not-coffee, a faraway look in his eyes. "We gotta get to Alderaan. If nothing else, we gotta warn 'em."

"But Jabba said they didn't even have any weapons!"

"I've never yet been disappointed at what supposedly peaceful people can dig out of their closets, attics, and underneath grandma's old mattress when their lives were on the line. Besides, they don't have to have weapons, per se; just something to get them off planet.

"And I'll bet you a vegan croissant that I could take one of their medium range scout ships and turn it into a weapon. Remember, these sonic cannon of mine started out life as a sonic sensor."

"I know. That's how you helped us find Starfire." Garfield's mouth quirked. "And put the smackdown on Big Poppa Gordanian, Lord Trogaar." Then he grew serious. "Cy? Where do you think the others are?"

"Me, personally? I really don't know. I don't have any way of studying the effect that sent us all here. Maybe if I had, I'd have a better lock on how the process worked, and why who went where. But as it is," Again, he shook his head. "I'd say, though, that there's good odds we were the only ones teleported."

"Huh?" Why d'you say that?"

"For one thing, we've been scanning the news pretty regularly since we got here." Even as he spoke, another of the white-armored Imperial stormtroopers ran past. "There's been nothing on the news about any crimefighting vigilante wearing red and green, Robin's colors. And I think he'd be a little noticeable. I also don't see him as just standing down and doing nothing. I mean, look at this place. Crime's a way of life here. That's why I don't feel too badly about working for Jabba. He's just better at it than most people. But Robin? Regardless of how outgunned he was, he'd be in the middle of it. Starfire likewise.

"And given Raven's powers, I think she'd have already sensed us and found us by now. If she were here. So my guess—and that's all it is, mind you—is that they're not here.

"We seem to've fallen into one of those worlds where morality, much as I hate to admit it, is kinda relative, Gar." He noticed his green buddy giving the ground long, extraordinarily (for him) serious looks. "Gar?"

"Cy…do you think…that…any of the others…might've been…hurt, somehow?"

Victor Stone sighed, something he didn't do often. His enhanced biology didn't actually require him to breathe, at least, not all the time, like an unaltered human. "Grass Stain…I don't know. I don't see how." But he was basing this off his last digital impressions of the area just before the explosion, or whatever it was that seemed to've resulted in their current placement.

Raven had been the closest to the epicenter. He knew Raven, backed by her mystical shields, could take a lot of punishment and not be harmed. Probably the only one who could take more would be Starfire.

But admitting that, had she been caught unprepared, she could easily have been seriously hurt was only going to have the effect of causing Garfield to worry more, and pointlessly. There'd be time for worry later on. For right now, Gar didn't need to be worried about something happening to a certain violet haired sorceress. It wasn't really any mystery to Cyborg why Garfield was so concerned about "one of the others" possibly being hurt. Or which one. "Anyway. Getting to Alderaan…"

"Yeah, we almost have to hire someone who knows the way."

"And the territory." He rubbed his plandanium chin. "Maybe that won't be too hard."

Neither of them noticed a dark-clothed man with close-cropped dark hair sitting a few tables away, listlessly eating a small, single-serving dinner. Neither of them noticed the way the muscles of his face tensed up, at the mention of the Death Star.

Or about Alderaan.

Han Solo had just ordered another twistler when Chewbacca returned from his foraging mission for parts. The Wookie growled and whined; his normal mode of speech. He'd modulated his voice to where it wasn't as noticeable as it normally was, Wookie voices being designed by nature to be used at long ranges, in a different atmosphere mix, and therefore normally somewhat loud. This was the Wookie equivalent of whispering.

"Yeah? You couldn't find a capacitator? What about that large one…you couldn't sweat it on? Okay, okay, geez. It was just a suggestion. Keep your voice down. You act like I'd made a rude comment about your mother." Solo thought. He'd pretty much used up the credits from his last run, and he was under no illusions about getting another "extension" from Jabba. Right now, the Hutt profiteer wasn't too fond of him anyway, in spite of their uneasy alliance in the past. Han hated to think what the crime lord would require in exchange for more credit.

That was the way it usually was with Jabba, or, for that matter, any of the big bosses here, particularly in this line of work. It paid well…provided you were willing to do some pretty shady things. So far, Han had kept to his own personal code of honor, and taken nothing more morally questionable than spice smuggling, but to get the really big credits…usually required the applicant to do things of a more…severe nature.

No way in Mustafar was Han going to turn kidnapper. Or hit man.

"Well, if you can't use the bigger capacitator, would two smaller ones, hooked up in sequence, be any better? At least get us off this cesspool of a planet?" Chewbacca thought for a minute, then growled back. "Well, maybe that's the way to go, then. It may be the _only_ way to go," he said, his voice lowered. The busboy who'd brought him his drink returned with another. Good kid. Han made a mental note to leave him a good tip. Funny; he hadn't seen the kid around anywhere, and Han justifiably proud of his ability to remember faces. In his world, remembering faces could be a life or death thing. "Alright, then. I'm supposed to meet with Jabba in two; you go see what you can secure, and I'll meet with you as soon as I can." He sighed heavily. _What I really need is some other way of getting paid. And paid a lot. And right now._

…..

Ben's hut: Luke still seemed a bit unsteady as he climbed out of the passenger side of the landspeeder. In spite of her inexperience in driving a landspeeder, Raven had managed to get them back to Ben's in one piece. _Guess I won't tell him I never actually got my driver's license back on Earth,_ she thought with a slight, quickly repressed smile. After all, when you can fly, you don't need a car. But there was no point in adding to his discomfort. Azar knew the poor kid already had enough. She climbed out of the driver's side, after shutting the motor off. He'd been able to show her how it worked, and, really, it wasn't hard. Too bad about that rat-like thing she'd hit, but Luke hadn't seemed to notice. "Luke? Are…you…" She hesitated. Of course, it really was a silly question…

"No, Raven. I'm not 'alright,' if that's what you were going to ask. I'm not alright, and I'll never be alright, ever again. But maybe…" He lifted his head. There was a hint of a gleam in his eye that caught her attention. "But maybe," he said, almost too low to be heard, "just maybe this is the way I need to be." For a brief moment, Raven thought she saw the shadow of something around him, something dark and powerful. Something she could relate to.

It both chilled and thrilled her.

…..

"Uh, Cy? If this Death Star thingy is heading towards Alderaan, to blow it up, do we really wanna be on it at the time?"

"'Course not. But we gotta get to the area, somehow. Now. Let's ask around, see who has a good, fast ship. Preferably someone who knows enough not to ask too many questions."

Again, neither of them noticed the dark man a few tables down smile slightly, without looking up. It was the sort of smile that would give most people goosebumps.

…..

"Hey, you! Gimme another!" bellowed Mirin's adjunct, as the busboy in the cantina busily wiped off the next table. He was new, the soldier thought, so he didn't know to treat Imperial soldiers with the proper respect. "None of that rag drippings you normally serve here, either! Bring us the best you got! And be damn quick about it! We're _Empire,_ damn you!"

"Yes, sir. At once, sir." It completely escaped the stormtrooper's attention that the new busboy didn't seem to be at all intimidated by the Imperials, but instead simply moved off, rapidly, and came back with their orders.

It also escaped his notice that, even though this was not the same attendant that had waited on them the first time, he nonetheless brought them refills of exactly what they'd originally ordered. "So what's the plan, Captain, sir?"

Mirin paused, savoring his drink. It was swill, of course; you couldn't expect good liquor on a backwater planet like this, but it was still the best this place had to offer. And Imperial credit was good, of course. Which meant the drinks were free. Never take free liquor for granted… "Well, we've already scoured that whole area where he first appeared. And I've had newscrawler programs running ever since, searching for any reports of somebody matching his profile…I guess it was a 'he.'" He paused. Then, under his breath, " _Hope_ it was a he, anyway." If it turned out they'd got their butts kicked by a "she," they'd never live it down. In a more normal tone of voice, "And there's been nothing. No reports of any sort of vigilante or outlaw activity matching what we…witnessed. Hm." Another pause, another drink. "Maybe we should stage another 'incident,' another 'lesson' to some greenie or something." But even as he said it, he shook his head. "Nah. He's too smart, too cunning to fall for that." Still another pause. "Jaekal? Have you been running that voice and facial features recognition program Shoolz designed on people?"

"Everyone we've encountered, sir. So far, no hits. Maybe our quarry isn't on this planet anymore."

Mirin shook his head, his stormtrooper helmet moving slightly from side to side. "I don't believe that. I don't know why I don't believe that, but I don't. Call it a hunch, an instinct. But I feel he's still here." Another drink, the drinking mechanism in the retractable drinking straw of his helmet automatically filtering out contaminants (and, he thought, ruefully, probably about 90% of what good taste it had, while leaving the foulness). "He's still here. Somewhere."

The busboy who'd served them turned, and continued to wipe down the nearest table. None of the stormtroopers noticed the tiny smile on the young human's face…

…

Space Battlestation IMBS3003: Major Anton was looking over the head of a very nervous technician level 3. "This is the best you've been able to do?"

"Yes, sir." The young man was sweating rivets. The Old Man didn't literally look over your very shoulder unless he was trying to find something wrong with what you were doing, and, as is frequently the case, there was more often than not something to find, if you looked hard enough.

"So why do we keep getting sec-cam blackouts in random areas?"

"I, I don't know, sir. Uh, rats?"

" _Rats?_ "

"Well, I mean…some sort of rodent could have sneaked on board the ship. It's a big ship, sir, and, and sometimes it's been known to happen…"

"Are you telling me there's _rats_ on board the Emperor's pride and joy and _nobody's done anything about it?_ "

"I'm just saying it might be a possibility, sir!" He trailed off as he realized he'd painted himself into a corner. Rats on board an Imperial battlestation? "I'll, uh, get someone right on it, sir!"

The officer stared at him for a long, long moment. "See that you do, lieutenant. I'd hate to have to report such dereliction of duty to Lord Vader."

The technician's gulp was audible across the room.

…

Somewhere in the bowels of the battle station: two figures sat in a gloomy alcove, watching the outside, and, even more importantly, listening for any signs of approaching personnel.

Leia had taken off the helmet of the "borrowed" armor she'd been wearing, and was now holding her head in her gloved hands. "I just don't see how to do it. I never actually _saw_ those plans; I don't know how to disable or destroy this thing. It's got to have a weak spot, somewhere. But where?"

The orange-skinned alien girl sitting across from her, also clad in stormtrooper armor, reached over and put her hand on Leia's arm in a supportive gesture. "Do not be the discouraged," she said, in her usual soft voice. "My beloved is always saying everything has a weakness. And this…this station is huge, a huge machine, but it is only a machine. The more complex a machine, any machine, is, the more it is vulnerable to the throwing of the wrench of the monkey." Her green eyes looked straight into Leia's, lending the other girl her strength.

"Starfire…I can't tell you how grateful I am to you. You are literally a lifesaver."

"I thank you. I am glad I was able to free you from your prison."

Princess Leia Organa shook her head. "Not only that. I…confess there have been times that, if it hadn't been for you, I might would've…given up. I certainly would've been tempted to."

"No. You would not. I know this. You are too much like my beloved. And he would never give up. Never." _But will I ever see him again?_

Leia managed a weak smile. "Your friend sounds like quite a guy."

"There is a saying where I come from: He is 'all that and a bag of chips.'"

Their muffled laughter drifted no farther than the doorway.

…..

Ben emerged from his doorway and immediately knew something was wrong, even without the Force. Luke was practically stumbling, barely aware of where he was going, while Raven was watching him concernedly. Then the knowledge of what had happened flooded into him from the Force.

Oh, no.

He stepped back and made way for Luke. "Luke? Luke, can you hear me?"

Luke stopped, paused, and nodded. "Yes, Ben. I hear you." He drew in a deep breath. "They…they were…"

Ben put out a hand on Luke's arm, more for comfort than support, a sorrowful expression on his kindly face. "I know, Luke. I know."

Luke stiffened. "You knew? YOU KNEW!?" Ben stepped back, taken by surprise at this sudden turn of Luke's irrational emotions. "YOU KNEW, AND YOU DID NOTHING?"

"No, Luke! I didn't know before-*" But his words were lost on the tortured boy in front of him. Luke abruptly turned and stalked away into the desert.

Raven came up to Ben. "We have to stop him, Raven. He's in no condition to-*"

"No." Raven's voice was soft, but firm. "He has to work this out for himself." At his look, she continued. "No one can bear this pain but him. No one can help him unless he lets them." She paused and watched the receding figure. "I should know."

The desert: Luke had found a rocky ledge, which made for a perfect seat. The wind blew around him, dry and hot. He looked out over the rocks and sand, one knee propped up close to his chest. He'd deliberately chosen a spot far away from Ben's; there was no trace of civilization as far as he could see. He found he liked it that way.

Although he heard nothing, he sensed the malevolent presence behind him. Without even turning around, he slammed the force of his anger into the Tusken raider who'd been sneaking up on him, knocking him to the ground. "Damn you!" he growled, standing up and turning around. Then he saw there were more, their axes ready.

His rage increased a hundred fold. It was just this sort of thing that had taken his whole family, his whole _life_ from him. "Damn you!" he roared, lashing out with some Power he hadn't been aware he'd had. "Damn you all!" The Tusken raiders fell to the ground, most clutching their throats, but some grasping their chests. Their breathing became labored, and they curled into a semi-fetal position.

Luke stood there, raising his fists to the sky. "DAMN YOU ALL!" The raiders writhed on the ground as though they'd stepped on a live wire, in the grip of some invisible Force. They gasped as the life was slowly squeezed out of them…

"Luke!" Through the redness of his rage, Luke heard Raven's voice. "Luke! Stop this! Look what you're doing!"

Somehow, her words penetrated his fury. "Raven?" He lowered his fists, his breathing harsh and heavy. "Raven?" All around him, the Sand People suddenly fell heavily onto the ground, released from whatever had been holding them. They gasped for air, and struggled to crawl away. "Raven? What…what's going on?"

She came up to him. "Come on, Luke. Let's go back." He put a hand to his head, which was suddenly pounding. What had just happened, anyway?

She took him by the arm, as the Sand People crawled away, too terrified to even look back. "Come on, Luke. We need to be getting back. We've…some things to…to think about."

 _That could have been me,_ thought Raven, as she led the nearly semi-conscious Luke back to Ben's hut. _It could yet be me._

 _We are both in danger._

…

 _To be continued…_

 _Author's Note: Dear readers, if you like crossovers of legendary figures, check out Touzoshin's Dragonball Super / DC crossover. Can you imagine a more epic meeting than that between Son Goku and Superman? I can't._


	6. Chapter 6: Reunion

Teen Titans / Star Wars Crossover: A Galaxy Far, Far Away

Chapter 6: Reunion

….

 _A collaboration between Edgar H. Sutter and myself. Whoever enjoys reading this should give him a thumb's up. I could not have done this without his help and guidance._

…

Chapter 6: Departure

It was a subdued and quiet Luke that Raven led back to Ben Kenobi's hut. Ben met them at the door. "Luke?" _Are you better now, Luke?_ He didn't have to speak the question for Luke to hear it in just the sound of his name.

"I'm…I'm…well. I'm not 'okay,' Ben, but… I'm sorry for, for saying what I did."

"Luke…I understand. I've lost people I loved myself. I'm not claiming to know exactly what you're going through; I won't trivialize it by saying that. But I will say that your…outburst was understandable. No apology needed. And…I am sorry for your loss. I grieve with you. Even though your uncle and I never really saw eye to eye on some matters, he was a good man, and the universe is worse place without him."

Luke straighten up, a decision stamped plainly on his face. "You mentioned going to Alderaan, and…training me in this 'Force' you spoke of. If that offer is still open, I'll take you up on it." His eyes wandered off to the side slightly, remembering what had happened earlier, when he'd nearly killed some marauders, acting on sheer instinct. He shuddered inwardly; while he had no love for the Sand People, he had less desire to become a murderer.

And, oddly, he found that, somehow, his use of this 'Force' that Ben spoke of had disturbed him more that if he'd used a blaster. Somehow it just seemed worse, to kill, however justified his reactions might have been, by the use of this invisible power he'd been unaware he'd even had. It was as though, in a strange sort of way, use of the Force in that way was a little bit blasphemous. "Yeah, I think…no, make that I _know_ I need to learn how to use it. I need to learn how to become the sort of man my father was." He returned his look back to Ben, focusing on the old Jedi.

But such was his internal distress that he failed to notice the brief hesitation on the old hermit's face. "Of course, Luke. Now, you'll be accompanying me to Alderaan? We will have to be making plans."

"Yes, Ben. I'm going with you."

Ben nodded, then turned to Raven. "We'll leave for Mos Eisely tomorrow morning. I know some people there who can help you in finding your friends…if they're here, I mean." He spread his hands in a gesture of commitment mixed with apology. "But if they're not, there's not much else I can do by way of helping you."

Raven nodded once, glancing at Luke for a moment. "That will be fine, Ben." He'd long told her she could address him by his first name, especially in light of their relationship as it stood. He glanced at her for just a moment before turning back to his planning. It was as though there was more to her decision than she'd actually mentioned.

They moved indoors, and Ben began to ruffled through some papers in a lockbox he'd taken off his shelf. "Alderaan is pretty far away, even at hyperdrive speeds. I doubt I'll have enough for tickets on a standard passenger ship." He pursed his lips in calculation. "Our best bet would be to find an independent contractor—someone, a lone operator who'll give us a better deal than a commercial flight. Luke?" Luke looked up, still halfway lost in his own private misery. "Luke? Would you be willing to sell your landspeeder? We wouldn't be able to take it in any case, and storing it until your return would be costly."

Luke waved a hand. "Yes, Ben. I…it would be best, I understand. And," he heaved a sigh. "It's not like I have any place to leave it.

"And I don't see myself as coming back. There's nothing to come back to." This last was said in almost a whisper, as though talking to himself. He found himself remembering the burned bodied, the blasted farmhouse. There weren't even any memories back there. None he wanted to be reminded of, anyway.

Ben nodded, understanding in his eyes. "Sometimes, Luke, one has to leave yesterday behind. In so doing, we often find that it makes tomorrow better."

While Ben was fussing around with his papers, and boxing up what few items he'd be taking, Raven crossed the room and sat by Luke. "Luke? It's like Ben said. I don't claim to know precisely what torment you're undergoing right now, but I am an empath. I do feel something of what you do. And I've had similar things happen to me."

"You're right. You _don't_ know what I'm feeling."

"That's true, sort of. But, being an empath, I'm not unfamiliar with how the human mind—the human heart—works. If you're like most people, a great deal of what you're undergoing is guilt. Am I correct?"

He didn't answer for a long time, so long that she was beginning to wonder if he'd answer at all. Then, "Yeah. I…I keep thinking, if only I'd been there. Maybe I could have done something, made a difference, somehow."

"You couldn't have. Luke, have you ever handled a weapon? Before that device you're wearing on your belt, I mean."

He shook his head. "I've gone womp-rat hunting a few times, with some friends. But nothing that could have made a real difference here. And I know what you're saying: all I could have done would have been to get killed right along with them. But knowing that doesn't…really help any."

"I know. It's called 'survivor's guilt,' and a great many people suffer from it after a tragedy like this. It springs, in part, from the simple, incontrovertible truth that you are now separated from your people. Your mind is telling you that, had you been there, you would…still be with them. In a sense. It's not uncommon." She pulled a knee up to her chest, clasping her hands around it. Such was his misery that the sight of her leg, so close and so appealing to look at, barely registered with him.

But register it did. She debated with herself as to whether or not she should share with him her particular secret, that she'd been responsible for the destruction of Azarath, due to her catastrophically bad choice of summoning the demon lord Trigon, in search of information on who she was and how she'd come to be. Well, she'd found out, all right. Young people make bad decisions, her mother had told her, after the debacle, and the only thing you could do in the aftermath of a bad decision was to learn from it and move on. But she knew that sharing that particular chapter in her life wouldn't help him any, and might have the undesirable side effect of him transferring his irrational feelings of guilt and blame onto her. So, no, nothing good would come of it. "But…" Her she put her hand on his leg, a supportive gesture, "I wanted to let you know you're not alone in this. You may feel like your universe has ended; it hasn't. You've…got people around you who'll help you. In any way we can."

"Thank you, Raven." _And just a short time ago, I was more than ready to get the hell away from you. I guess you're not so bad. I guess._

….

Somewhere within the bowels of the Imperial Mobile Battle Station 3003: two white-armored figures were once again conferring, having found an alcove where they could safely conceal themselves. "This is getting us nowhere," said Leia. "This thing is _huge_. And I'm not technician enough to figure out what we need to be looking for, even." She managed a small, tired smile. "Guess I should have paid more attention in school."

"So what do you feel we should do next?" Her companion, the alien girl known as _Starfire,_ deferred to her judgment. After all, this was her universe.

Leia sighed. They'd both long since managed to hack into the communication frequencies on the stormtrooper armor they'd appropriated, and so were familiar with what was being transmitted over the 'com. "There's really only one other thing I can think of. It's a pretty desperate plan, but it's all I've got left. You remember what we talked about?"

"Yes. Though I am not the happy with it."

Shortly thereafter, Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith, was once again in one of the conference lounges, gazing out the simulated window to the stars beyond. How far away they seemed, he thought.

Someone signaled for entrance. Mildly surprised, he turned, and reached out with the Force to identify the caller. Behind his mask, his eyes widened, and he spoke. "Enter."

Senator Leia Organa, late of Alderaan, strode confidently into the room. Behind her, a very confused adjunct looked from her to the Dark Lord. "Uh, sir, she, she said you'd sent for her…"

"That I did." Vader dismissed the guard and turned to the diminutive figure in front of him. "Well, Senator, I confess this is a move on your part that I did not foresee. I'm impressed. What of your companion?"

"I honestly don't know where she is. We parted ways, and what she's doing now is as much mystery to me as to you. Though I daresay it's probably nothing you'd approve of." Leia Organa was the very picture of self-control. "In any case, I understand your 'invitation' was primarily aimed at me. I trust you'll forgive me for taking the time to freshen up, but I had to wait in line in the troopers' shower. And then I had to knee one trooper in the groin who made an improper suggestion."

Vader's amazement—and respect-grew. "I'll see to it that man is disciplined for his incivility."

"It was a woman."

"I'll see to it that _person_ is disciplined for _her_ incivility. Now. We've matters to discuss, you and I." He turned to the intercom. "All personnel, be aware of an intruder on board this Battlestation. She is to be found, no matter what the cost. I would prefer her to be taken alive, but she must be found and brought to me. No matter what state she is in." He shut off the 'com and turned to his prisoner. "If you've any information on her whereabouts, it might aid us in taking her alive. No? Very well.

"In that case, let us…discuss certain matters."

…

Mos Eisely: It was getting on towards evening. Ben had been able to negotiate a good price for Luke's landspeeder, and now led the pair, flanked by C3PO and R2D2, towards a shady establishment from which the sounds of drunken mirth could be heard. Raven's nose turned up as she sensed the emotions emanating from the establishment. Ben had told her he'd need to look for a non-commercial pilot, one with a good, fast ship, to get them to Alderaan, but somehow she'd been thinking of something a tad more respectable. "We shouldn't be long in here. I'm told he frequents this…establishment nightly."

"He who?"

"One of those independent contractors I told you about. Once I've secured transport, Raven, I'll contact those individuals I told you about, the ones who might could help you in finding your friends."

"Very well, Ben."

The quintet entered the cantina. The music was bit too loud for both Raven and Luke's taste, and not the sort either of them preferred, anyway. Smoke drifted through the air, making it difficult to see into every corner of the room.

"There he is. You four, wait here and stay out of trouble. I'll go see what I can arrange." And with that, he left them at the bar, zeroing in on a secluded table where a brown haired man wearing a dark vest lounged, drink in hand. "Try not to attract attention. This shouldn't take but a few minutes."

"Hey!" They looked around. The bartender was addressing them. "You!" He pointed to C3PO and R2D2. "We don't serve their sort here!"

"What? The _droids?_ " Luke's voice expressed amazement. What the hell? Not serve droids? What would you serve 'em, anyway? Thirty-weight?

"Yeah, them!" Several mutters of agreement echoed around the bar. The sense of hostility around them increased. Luke looked around, astonished. What was all this about?

"Never mind, Master Luke," said C3PO. Then, to R2: "Come along, R2. We'll just wait outside."

Raven watched them go. She shook her head ever so slightly. Some things seemed to be universal.

"Hey!" A scruffy-looking individual tugged at Luke's arm, half shoving him away from the bar. "My friend here doesn't like you."

Luke was nonplussed. "Er, sorry." He made as though to move away from the individuals in question. From the table in the corner, Ben glanced their way, sensing something in the air besides narcotic inhalants and stinks.

The man wouldn't let go. " _I_ don't like you either," he said menacingly, moving to expose the blaster at his side. The crowd around them hushed, sensing some entertainment in the making.

"Look, I don't want any trouble."

"Too bad, 'cause you found it!" The man thrust his face in Luke's, his eyes alight with dark glee.

"Excuse me, is there a problem?" Luke thought something about Raven's voice lowered the ambient temperature by at least twelve degrees.

"Yeah. Yer boyfriend here is gettin' on my nerves. An' I got me a good tranquilizer right here." He gestured towards the blaster on his hip.

"Raven, I can handle-*" But a glance from her quieted him.

"So." Raven looked at him, her eyes going dark. "You have a problem being in the same vicinity as this young man?"

"Yeah, I 'gotta problem' with it! What'cha gonna do about it?"

"Remove you from the vicinity." And with that, a beam of dark energy shot from her outstretched hand, blasting the thug and his cohort across the room. "There. Perhaps you will find that locale more pleasing." She turned to the others, noting their shocked—and frightened—looks. Her hand still glowed with dark energy. "Does anyone else have a problem I can assist with?" They moved away. Raven turned to the bartender. "You might want to get someone to clean up this mess." The tone of her voice left no doubt she wasn't referring to the clutter on the floor. She turned away, her navy-blue cape swirling around her. "Come on, Luke." With a glance backward, he followed her.

"Well," said Ben dryly, as they approached the table. "I would say this is about all the staying out of trouble we can stand for one evening." He glanced over in the corner, where the two thugs were just then coming to.

"It's sometimes necessary to educate especially needy individuals on proper social etiquette," Raven said, unapologetically, all the while taking in the tall man, lounging against the wall. It wasn't lost on her that his hand was very close to his own blaster.

"You didn't tell me you had a witch with you," he said, cutting his eyes at Ben.

"Raven is not actually a witch. Her situation is…complex. In any case, she will not be accompanying us to Alderaan."

"Good to know. I don't need any holes in my ship."

"Of course you don't. Now, about that price…"

Outside, C3PO and R2 D2 were waiting in the shadows by the door. Several times, one or more groups of stormtroopers had passed by, scurrying towards some appointment. The two droids had, by what might be called instinct in organic beings, kept as much out of sight as possible. After all, there was no point in putting oneself in harm's way.

And they knew now that the Empire was gunning for them, for R2 in particular, though C3PO was certain they'd not hesitate to include him in their "search and destroy" orders. Guilt by association, and all that. "See what you've gotten me into, R2? I hope you're happy with yourself." _Beep, boop, squawrk._ "You don't have to sound so cheerful about it." More squawkings, beeps and boops. "Well, you don't."

One group of troopers paused in their rounds near where the two droids were hiding. C3PO strained his audio pickups to hear what they were saying amongst themselves. _"Our latest intel says those droids are in this area. Spread out and see if you can find anyone who's seen 'em."_

" _What about the bar?"_

" _What about it? They don't serve_ _droids_ _there. Anyway, what would a droid be doing in a bar, anyway? No, we're looking for two humans, one young, one old, with two droids with them."_ He paused a moment. _"I doubt the men would be far from the droids, but if you get the chance, you might scope out the bar. You've all got the descriptions loaded onto your HUDs. Fan out and find them."_

"Oh, dear, R2. It looks like they're zeroing in on us. We have to warn Master Luke and the others." _Beep, boop, squarwk._ "What do you mean, 'how'? Oh. I see what you mean. Well, we can't go back in there without causing a disturbance…the only thing to do is wait for them to come out. But we must let them know at the earliest time. I personally don't want to find out what it's like to have my components blasted apart." _Boop, beep._ "No, that's _not_ a 'no-brainer.' I _have_ a brain. Unlike some I could mention."

…..

"Never heard of the _Millennium_ Falcon? Kid, where you been? Oh, right," said Han Solo, sarcastically. "Tatooine. Armpit of the universe."

Luke bristled. He was still hurting, in a way, from having to be saved from a fight _by Raven._ His male ego was bruised. He was intelligent enough to know what it was, but Solo's comments still rankled him. "Well, _you're_ here. But I guess everybody has to do some slumming some time or another, right?"

"Luke," Ben said, sharply, "Where are the droids?" When Luke told him, he said, "Luke, it's imperative that we keep a close eye on them, especially on that R2 unit. It's vital we get it to Alderaan. I need you and Raven to go check up on them, make sure they're safe. Mr. Solo and I will be concluding our business here; now, go on, the both of you." And he turned back to Han Solo.

"Come on, Luke." Raven made for the exit. She recognized Ben's move for what it was: avoiding a confrontation, however mild, with the pilot was in everybody's interests. And Luke was, she knew, a bit rankled by the recent events. Plus they did need to check up on the droids, regardless.

Grumbling, Luke followed her outside. "Luke. Do you…feel bad about what happened? With that bully?"

He carefully avoided her gaze. "How could I feel bad about it, Raven? I mean, you probably saved me from a beating in there, at the very least. You may even have saved my life. I should be grateful, right? So, yeah, thanks." He couldn't have been more distant if he were on another planet.

She sighed. They were just emerging out onto the street. "Luke…I did what I did as much for myself as for you. People like that give me a physical—and a metaphysical—pain. They usually end up getting what they deserve. This just seemed to be the most effective way of accelerating that process.

"Besides. They had you off-guard. That's why they picked on you in the first place. You weren't _ready,_ psychologically, to deal with a sudden threat like that. They sensed that and zeroed in on you like sharks on my home planet do blood in the water. I was just a little surprise for them. Just like they were a surprise to you. Give time, I'm…sure you could've handled them, but caught off-guard as you were…"

He blew out a breath. "Yes, Raven. I know all that you're saying is true. I don't doubt a word of it. It's just…"

She put a hand on his arm. He found he didn't mind the touch as much as he'd thought he might. Raven…wasn't so bad. "Ben's offered to train you in the ways of this 'Force.' I'm sure a large part of that will involve being prepared for just such events as tonight. I had to train for it, too, long ago. It's no shame that you weren't ready, just yet." He still remained silent, but his emotions began to settle. So he wasn't ready. He would be. Next time.

She quirked a smile in his direction. "Tell you what. Next time, I'll be the Damsel in Distress, and _you_ can come to _my_ rescue. I might even be able to work in some gasping and fainting. How does that sound?"

He actually managed a slight laugh. He was finding out he couldn't stay mad at Raven, not for long. Why this was, he didn't know. "Sure thing, dude."

She stopped, dead still, in the middle of the walkway, as if she'd run into a wall. Turned to face him slowly, her expression blank and unreadable. _Good gods,_ he thought, _I've offended her._ He was about to offer an apology when she spoke up, in a strained voice.

"Where," she said, enunciating her words carefully, "did you hear that word used like that?"

…

Boba Fett moved cautiously along the rooftops. His experienced eye saw the stormtroopers passing by on the streets below. He knew what they were looking for. Not his problem.

His target was right…in…there. All he had to do was wait.

Every hunter learns patience.

…

"Then we'll depart tomorrow. We'll be traveling light. Do you have an estimated time of arrival?"

"Shouldn't take more than a few days. I've…done some work on the old girl. She's up to nine million C." The corners of Han's mouth quirked up as he thought about the Millennium Falcon, his pride and joy.

"Very well, then. Luke and I will be ready to go at the established time. I have to take some time to see to Raven's disposition; she's searching for someone, so I promised to introduce her to some old friends of mine who might could help her."

"Glad to hear she's not coming with us. She gives me the creeps."

Ben smiled, and looked away. In truth, the Raven of late had been giving _him_ "the creeps" as well. The girl had a certain darkness within her that was unrelated to either side of the Force. And the unknown—especially the _malevolent_ unknown—always activated his "caution" gene. "Well, I'll go see to her now, then. We'll meet back at the hanger bay? Good. Then I shall see you there."

…

Outside: "Luke? Luke, where _did_ you hear that word used like that?"

"Er, uh, w-what word? You mean, 'dude'? Some guy I met used it. I, I hope it, it's not a bad word or anything," he stammered. Her expression remained unreadable.

" _Was he green, Luke? A green humanoid?"_

"How—how did you know that?"

"Master Luke!" C3PO came bustling out of an alley. "I hate to interrupt you, but I'm afraid those dreadful troopers are after us! What do we do?"

Luke thought. Then, "Look, come with me." He started off in the direction of the cantina again. Raven caught his arm. "Luke! _Where is the person who used that term? It's important!"_

"As a matter of fact, they were going to head for here, Raven. Trying to find their friends. I guess I've found one of them and didn't know it. But we gotta get Ben and warn him."

"But-*"

"Raven, there's no time! Any minute now, troopers could appear around that corner! You're the only one who can get these droids to safety. You got to get 'em to, here," he fished out a scrap of paper and handed it to her, "this hanger. I'll bring Ben as soon as I can. Everything else can wait! Now, hurry!"

Raven stared for a moment. This was a different Luke than the one she'd met. "Alright. Go get Ben and we'll meet you there."

The Cantina: Ben had concluded his negotiations with Solo, and had stopped by the bar for a glass of fruit juice. Being a hermit for so long, he'd forgotten just how talking, non-stop, can dry out a man's throat.

"Ben! We've gotta go! The droids told us the troopers are out looking for them, and they're _here-*_ "

"Hey!" It was the same thug who'd accosted Luke earlier. "Y'ain't got'cher girlfriend aroun' this time ta-*" and Luke's I-have-had-enough-of-your-shit-powered fist hit him right in the middle of his face.

Caught off-guard, the thug was propelled backward. Luke might not have been much streetfighter, but a lifetime of farm work had given him more muscles that most men his size. He didn't hold back one bit. Rather than grab the unfamiliar weapon at his belt, however, he instead hefted a nearby chair, his expression deadly serious.

Ben closed his eyes in resignation. Their attempts to go unnoticed weren't working out very well. There was only one thing he could do against the growing animosity of the crowd…but he'd need a little help. He reached deep inside…

An ancient technique, so primeval that it was handed down from the forefathers of the Je'daii on Tython…rather than make a man not see what was there, to make a man see what was not there…or perhaps not there yet.

The thugs saw a young man clothed in dark raiment standing confidently before them. He had a tangible aura of _menace_ about him, as though darkness itself gathered around him. The heavy-gauge blaster in his hand was pointed unwaveringly at them, and his piercing eyes did not encourage their continued stares. "I believe," he stated calmly, "This conversation is over." They moved back, careful to keep their own hands away from their weapons.

Solo lounged, over in his corner, watching the show. About time that little rat had gotten what was coming to him, and twice in one evening, too. You couldn't buy entertainment better than that.

He was now feeling a bit better that he had a payment coming. As he congratulated himself on haggling a good price, a large form wearing a desert dweller's robe, with a green bird of some sort perched on his shoulder, approached the table. Solo watched it with a cautious eye. "Are you Han Solo?" said a voice from within the hood. Solo could see one red cybernetic eye within the folds of the hood.

"Who wants to know?"

"Someone who needs a good, fast ship for hire. I hear you've got one."

Solo looked over the hulking form. There was something about it that set off his internal alarms. "You just missed out. I've already got a charter."

"Whatever they're paying, I'll double it." The figure slid into the seat across from Solo. Han noted that both hands were in sight….and both hands were metal. Hm.

"I don't renege on my deals."

"Triple. And maybe you could just drop us off first, if this ship of yours is as fast as I hear…you wouldn't need to stick around. In fact, you probably wouldn't want to. All we need is just to get there. No frills."

"'Us'?"

The robed figure gestured with his head towards the bird on his shoulder. "We're a package deal. He doesn't take up much room."

"Hm." Solo was mightily tempted. If he could arrange it right, he'd get Kenobi's payment, and then three times that. That sort of profit made him a very happy smuggler indeed. "I _have_ already contracted out to one party, and they're also in a rush to get to…where they're going. Just exactly where is it that you need to go?"

"Alderaan."

Solo's eyebrows rose. Seems like everybody was in a tizzy to get to Alderaan these days.

But…a little haggling…this would be perfect…this would be about as perfect as it could get.

Outside: Raven hustled to get the droids to the hanger Luke had told her about. It had surprised her, a bit; the tone of _command_ in his voice. Very much like Robin.

Luke's use of the term "dude" had struck her like a thunderbolt. She knew exactly one person who talked like that….and if Luke had "acquired" the term, that meant he was well enough to speak. He wasn't….hurt.

And he was _here._

The cantina: Luke watched in something close to astonishment as the thugs backed away. He knew he didn't have the skills to take them all on, and he wasn't counting on Ben in a fight, given his age. But they backed off, as though _afraid_ of him. Why? "Luke. We need to get to the hanger. We'll have to meet up with Raven there; she's probably the only one who can get them there without raising suspicion. Good thinking there, by the way. They're looking for us, with the droids; they won't necessarily be looking for _her_ with the droids." At Luke's quizzical expression, he replied, "As for what just happened, I'll have to tell you about it someday. For now, don't worry about it." _I only hope I haven't hurt you, boy._ "Now…" He noticed Solo talking to a desert dweller with a green bird on his shoulder. "We need to be making our way there, too. But first, I need to contact those people I told her about, that might can help her-*"

"Ben…I've already sorta found one of them. They're here in Mos Eisely." And he proceeded to tell Ben about his exchange with Raven, outside.

"So…they are here. Good, good. Perhaps we can skip that step. Let's go make our way to the ship, just in case. But slowly. We don't want to arouse suspicion." _Any more than we already have, that is._

Back at Solo's table: "Alright. I'll get you and your…companion to Alderaan. As I say, we'll be crowded, so I'll have to charge extra for room, supplies, and fuel."

"Not a problem," said the cyborg (for so Han had determined him to be). "We'll cover it. Whatever it takes."

Grunt. "You seem awfully eager to get to Alderaan."

"Matter of life and death."

…..

Chewbacca couldn't have been more surprised when the dark human girl bustled up to the _Millennium Falcon_ , herding the two droids Han had told him about. But Han hadn't said anything about any girl. He had his crossbow halfway raised when she growled, "You must be Chewbacca. Well, Chewbacca, here you go. I've delivered these droids to you. What you do with them from here on out is your own business." At that moment, Luke and Ben appeared, moving as nonchalantly as they could. "Yes, Chewbacca, is it? Yes, these are the droids Mr. Solo told you about. Now, could we see to our quarters?"

Raven came up to Luke. "Luke. I need to do a finder spell on you."

He drew back. "A finder spell? What's that?"

"You've met one of my friends, the very ones I've come here looking for. Even though you don't know where they are now, still, there's a possibility that there's a…connection there. Very very tenuous, but it's there. I may be able to locate them." She paused for breath, saw him draw back further. She could understand; nobody likes to have spells cast on them. She softened. Reached over and put her hand on his arm. "It's alright, Luke. I wouldn't do anything to hurt you. You know that, don't you?

"So…would you let me? Please?"

….

The cantina: Cyborg and Garfield had just concluded their (expensive) business with Han Solo and stepped out. "Now which way is Hanger 94?" mused the green parrot on Cyborg's shoulder.

"Hm. According to the directions he gave us….it's in that direction."

…

It was a very pleased Han Solo who continued to sit at the table. He even ordered another twistler. What the hey. He'd just made a _huge_ score.

He was just about to get up from the table, when a green, snouted visage plopped its uninvited body into the seat opposite him. The blaster in the Rodian's hands was trained on Solo, unwaveringly. _"Going somewhere, Solo?"_ the creature asked in its own language, which Solo understood.

"As a matter of fact, I was just on my way to see your boss. You can tell Jabba I've got his money, and then some."

" _It's too late for that. You should have paid him when you had the chance. Now you've got a bounty on your head so large every bounty hunter in the galaxy will be looking for you. I'm just lucky I found you first. Heh."_ The green, scaled face twisted in an unmistakably unpleasant expression. _"I even beat out that lootherlukin' Fett. I'm quite proud of myself, actually."_

 _With a face like that, I wouldn't be,_ thought Solo, playing for time. "Yeah, but this time, I've got the money. Don't you think he'd rather have that?"

" _Got the money, huh? Well, tell you what. You give it to me, and I might forget seeing you."_

"I don't actually have it _with_ me…" His hand slipped under the table, unfastening his blaster's holster…

" _Jabba's through with you, Solo. He has no time for smugglers who drop their shipments at the first sign of an imperial cruiser."_

"Even I get boarded, sometimes." Moving the strap out of the way, silently sliding the gun from its holster…. "You think I had a choice?"

" _You can tell that to Jabba. He may only take your ship."_

"Over my dead body."

" _That's the idea. You know, I've looked forward to this for a long time now."_

"I'll bet you have." And the Rodian's finger tensed on the blaster's trigger…

The sound of the shot _crackowed_ across the room. Greedo slumped over, his own blaster dropping from his fingers.

Solo holstered his weapon, looking around. The others in the bar turned away; what had happened was none of their business. Greedo had let Solo's hands get out of sight; that had been his first and biggest—not to mention last—mistake. "For what it's worth," murmured Han Solo, "So have I."

He got up, turning to the bartender. "You seem to be having a lot of messes to clean up tonight. Here." He tossed some coins to the bartender. "A little extra."

….

"I swear I thought it was in this direction, Cy!"

"But we're right back where we started, Gar. There's the bar, right down there. We must be misreading this map…."

…..

Solo exited the bar, feeling rather good. He'd made a good score tonight: some paying customers, some _really well paying_ customers, and had managed to rid his personal universe of a pest nobody needed anyway. Though it did worry him that Jabba had put out a bounty on him. Not everybody was a fool like Greedo. Best thing to do was to get back to the _Falcon_ and get ready for lift-off. The sooner he was off-planet, the better….

The stun charge took him right between the shoulder blades, and down he went.

Boba Fett lifted off from his vantage point on the roof, and jetted down to where his quarry lay. Excellent. All he had to do was wrap this one up and present him to Jabba, and the bounty would be his….

"Hey!" A voice from up the street drew his attention. He looked up, just in time to get a sonic charge right in the center of his Mandalorian armor chestplate. The concussion actually knocked him back a few steps. "Whoever you are, leave him alone!" The speaker was a humanoid seemingly made mostly of some shiny metal. _A cyborg,_ noted Fett. The cyborg's outstretched arm had morphed into the concussion device that had struck him. Flying over him was a green bird of some sort….

….which immediately fell to earth, morphing into a huge green catlike creature. _Shapechanger,_ thought Fett. These were either his target's friends or, more likely, rival bounty hunters looking to make a big score. "Back off," he warned, "This one's mine, and I'm taking him in. I don't give out second warnings." Even as he spoke, he dialed up just the right amount of blaster-force; no point in using too much. For all he knew, some of these buildings belonged to Jabba, and the Hutt wasn't too good to take "damages" out of Fett's bounty. That would hurt.

"Geez, dude," said the green shapechanger, working its mouth to enunciate the words, "Outnumbered much?"

"Yeah," replied Boba Fett, as he readied his weapons. "You might wanna call for backup."

….

Hanger 94: Luke stood perfectly still, while Raven made pass after pass over his head, eyes closed, words muttered too low to be heard emanating from her mouth. He noticed the gemstone on her forehead glowed a little brighter with each pass. He guessed that was a…good sign?

"They're here," she finally said, stepping back and refocussing her eyes on the here and now. "They came here, to Mos Eisely. But I can't pinpoint them. There's something…something in the way."

Ben approached. He and Luke had been shown to the quarters they'd share. Neither one had much in the way of baggage; basically the clothes on their backs were all they had, although Ben had had the foresight to bring some changes. It would do until they got to Alderaan, he hoped. "Perhaps my contacts will be able to help you. As soon as Mr. Solo gets here, I'll go have a word with them. You can come with me; I'll introduce you."

…

Back on the street: Beast Boy and Cyborg were beginning to wonder if maybe they shouldn't have taken Han's assailant up on his offer of calling for backup.

Cyborg narrowly dodged a missile, only to have it turn in mid-flight, homing in on him. _Great, a seeker._ He had electronic countermeasures, but deploying them took some of his time and attention. Meanwhile, the armored goon focused on Garfield.

Beast Boy's tiger form's agility was the only thing that saved him from blaster fire. _This guy's not screwing around,_ he thought, as he shifted to an ankylosaurus form, with its armored upper shell. He switched around, and swung the mace that was his tail at the bounty hunter…

…who was no longer there. Boba Fett had used his jet pack to lift himself off the ground a few meters. It gained him a better vantage point, and he again aimed his blaster at the green dinosaur, already dialing in a heavier charge.

 _Boooooom!_ Cyborg's sonic cannon hit him dead center, knocking him back even farther from his prey. If this kept up, he might lose his bounty. The farther away he got from his target, the less direct control he had over it. That was unacceptable.

Fett triggered a flurry of smaller seeker missiles towards the cyborg, rightly deducing him to be the more dangerous of the two. Then, as Victor dodged and blasted his way through those, he dialed his blaster up to "kill" and set his sights on the shapechanger…

…and something hit him squarely in the back, something that exploded with enough force to knock him down to the street, driving him partway into the roadway itself. What the?

He looked around. Standing behind him, on the very rooftop he'd been on when he nailed Solo, was a young man wearing what appeared to be a dark blue and gold scaled uniform. The scales had the look of armor, and the boy's belt, calves, and back bulged with what Fett had no doubt were weapons of some sort. In his hands he carried a staff crackling with energy. The youth had spiky black hair, and wore a minimal mask over his eyes. He also wore an expression of almost nauseating (to Fett) confidence. "Is this a private dance? Or can anybody join in?"

 _To be continued…._


	7. Chapter 7: Departure

Teen Titans / Star Wars Crossover: A Galaxy Far, Far Away

Chapter 7: Departure

….

 _A collaboration between myself and Edgar H. Sutter, who deserves high marks for his knowledge and insight. Give him a thumbs-up! Anybody who can put up with me deserves at least that._

 _Neither of us own any part of the Teen Titans or the Star Wars franchises, of course._

… _.._

Chapter 7: Departure.

Boba Fett was beginning to lose his temper.

The punk had deftly dodged what few missiles he had left, and zeroed in on him more than once with that electrostaff. Mandalorian iron or no, the shocks still transmitted through the seams and chinks in his armor, enough to cause him painful spasms. And he was still having to fend off the cyborg's sonic assaults.

Speaking of…he feinted, listening for the faint sound of the sonic cannon building up, then made sure he was squarely between the punk and the cyborg. With a skill born of many battles on many different worlds, he timed his dodge perfectly, so as to leave the punk standing in the path of the beam.

It _almost_ worked. But the kid (he _couldn't_ be _twenty,_ curse him!) dodged just as fast, the edge of the beam catching him, and slamming him into the side of a nearby building. Fett readied his weapon; he'd picked up the radio calls of the Imperials, on their way to the disturbance. He and his quarry had to be long gone by then.

But just as he was about to fire, a huge, leathery tail, powerfully muscled, slammed into his side, knocking him off balance, sending _him_ into the side of a nearby building. In his own over-confidence, he'd neglected to keep up with the shape-changer. He cursed himself for a rookie. Well, _this_ was easily rectified, he thought, even as he dialed his blaster up to lethal. One good shot…

Something slammed into his armor. He felt his back suddenly grow hot, and the automatic cooling system kicked in. Whatever the punk hit him with must have been pretty powerful, to cause his automated systems to come online. His Mandalorian armor had stood up to Jedi and Sith lightsabers, so, yeah, powerful. _Some sort of thermal detonator, maybe?_ "Not bad kid," Fett taunted, lifting his gauntlet, and spraying a stream of fire at the cyborg, who flinched away, "but I'm not here to teach class. I've a job to do, and you're in my way. Now back off, before I get serious."

"Then I guess you'll just have to get serious," said the punk, appearing in front of him, as if by magic, swinging that accursed staff. With perfect precision, he targeted Fett's armor's weakest spots, driving him back, while the cooling system still blasted a chill down his back. It was drawing on power from his suit's other systems, so it slowed down his armor's reaction time.

It was beginning to look like he wasn't going to collect on his bounty this day.

 _Frag it,_ he thought. Okay, they wanna play it that way… He unhooked a thermal detonator of his own from his belt…Jabba had said "dead or alive"…dead would just have to do.

And suddenly the punk was on top of him, his staff swinging, batting the grenade out of Fett's grasp, the weight of Fett's own armor slowing the bounty hunter's reaction time just a little. Just enough. Fett had a moment to realize that the punk was wearing something on his left hand, a gauntlet of some sort, with multiple steel blades protruding from the knuckles and the sides, blades that crackled with energy. He saw the kid slam the gauntlet right into the seam of his armor where it connected to his helmet….

….and then knew no more.

…

Robin stepped back from his fallen foe, looking around at the others. "Rob!" shouted Beast Boy, morphing back into human and running up to him. "Man! Talk about the cavalry arriving!"

"Hey, Rob," said Cyborg, coming up just behind Garfield, "any idea what's going on here?"

Robin didn't reply at once, but looked around, pressing his hand up against the side of his head, as though listening. Then, "No time, guys. I'm monitoring the airwaves, and we've stirred up a hornet's nest. Who's this?" He gestured towards Han's still-unconscious body.

"Our ticket outta here. Look, maybe we better get on the hoof. Er, not literally, grass stain." Cyborg was looking around, too. There were no civilians in sight; evidently they knew better than to make a cell-phone video party out of the proceedings. He reached down and picked Han up as though he weighed nothing. "Rob, we gotta make it to this place called 'Alderaan.' Somethin' bad's gonna happen if we don't." He paused, then saw the white-armored troops just then rounding the corner. They immediately opened fire. "'Course, somethin' bad's already happenin' here! Come on, Rob! This place is rapidly becoming decidedly unfriendly!" He fully expected Robin to refuse; after all, where was Starfire? He'd been wondering that himself.

But Robin didn't hesitate. "Let's go." And the three of them, with Cyborg carrying Han, took off down the street towards the hanger.

The troops behind them continued to fire, but the heroes dodged and weaved, narrowly avoiding the bolts. Carrying Han, Cyborg couldn't easily turn and fire at them, but Robin deftly plucked a disk from his belt, throwing it behind him. It immediately exploded right in front of the oncoming Imperials, producing a thick cloud of noxious gas. Another such disk froze the ground underneath their feet. They could hear the stormtroopers slipping and slamming into each other, and the occasional yell when a trooper was injured by a stray blaster bolt. "That won't hold them long," he said. "We'd best make tracks."

The Hanger: Raven had just finished yet another pass over Luke's head, still attempting to find her friends, when she heard shouts from the entrance. To her vast amazement, she saw Beast Boy, Cyborg, and Robin rushing towards them, with Cyborg carrying an apparently unconscious Han Solo. "Raven!" Robin's voice was as sharp as a steel blade. "We've got to get out of here!"

"Wh-? Oh." The troopers had just rounded the corner, and commenced firing. She threw up a shield of black energy, while the others rushed up into the ship. Chewbacca had started when he saw the crowd of people coming, but he recognized Han, correctly deducing most of what had happened. Just like Han. _I should be used to it by now._ He growled something to C3PO, who turned to Luke. "Master Luke! Master Chewbacca said we may need the two of you to hold off those dreadful troopers while he powers up the ship!"

Luke immediately drew a blaster he'd found, but Ben put a hand on his arm. "No, Luke. You and Raven get inside. Raven, see about helping Han. I'll stall these troopers." And he produced his lightsaber, the blade glowing brightly in the light.

What followed next was something Luke Skywalker would never forget. Old Ben, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Knight of the Jedi Order, stood alone against a seeming horde of armored troopers armed with what looked like nothing more than a really bright flashlight. Luke winced when he saw the troopers opening fire.

But Ben countered with his lightsaber, the immaterial blade catching and deflecting the blaster bolts. Even though they came at him from many different points, still, with the grace and speed of a cat, Ben dodged and weaved, his lightsaber intercepting all the blaster bolts, reflecting some of them back onto the troops themselves. But they kept crowding in, goaded on by their officers, and he fell back, a few inches at a time. "Go on, Luke! Get everyone aboard!" He dodged and weaved, his saber providing point-defense against the beams.

When the others saw Ben was holding his own, they scrambled into the ship, with Raven lagging behind. "Ben! Fall back! I can shield us for a moment!"

Ben said nothing, but steadily fell back until he was at the lip of the loading ramp. Raven gestured, a field of energy springing up between the troopers and the _Falcon._

"Oh, my," exclaimed C3PO, "Master Chewbacca is telling us to strap in!" They all looked around; there weren't enough seats.

At that exact moment, the Millennium Falcon leapt into the sky.

Inside: In spite of 3PO's warning, the Titans, as well as Luke, had tumbled to the floor, slamming up against the bulkhead. Raven could hear someone cursing; it sounded like Cyborg.

Chewbacca growled again, from his seat at the controls. "Oh, dear. Master Chewbacca is telling us those dreadful Imperials have set a trap for us up here!" More growls. "How is Master Han?"

"Still out. Does this ship have a sickbay?" Cyborg was carrying Han's body.

Still more growls. "He says it's right down this way, Master Cyborg." And 3PO led him down the corridor.

"We've gotta get ready for trouble. Everybody get somewhere and strap in," Robin told the others. He looked around. "Are those gun emplacements?"

The others were still picking themselves up off the floor. Garfield found Raven, still a bit groggy from the energy she'd expended, and helped her up off the floor. She was holding her head, and absently stuck out her hand, which he took, and levered her up off the floor. She didn't seem aware of him at first. "Hey, Rae. Long time no see."

At his words, she started, standing there in the middle of the corridor, noticing him for the first time, and looking at him very oddly. Then, without another word, she threw her arms around him, and drew him into a hug worthy of one of Starfire's bone-cracking embraces. "Garfield. I, I was so worried."

To say that Garfield was stunned would have been an understatement. Was this really _Raven_? The last time _he'd_ hugged _her_ , she'd threatened to blast him into another dimension. "Uh, R-Rae? Uh, I mean, uh, it, it's alright now." His arms automatically went around her. He'd grown some; she had to stand on tip-toe. "Truth is, I was gettin' a little worried myself. I-it's good to see that you're," _whole and in one piece_ "okay."

Then she looked up at him from within the circle of his arms, and he found he couldn't look away from her purple orbs. She just kept looking at him, right in the eyes, a very un-Raven-like expression on her face. It began to make Garfield Logan a trifle nervous; if it had been anybody else, he would have sworn it looked like she was about to kiss him…

 _No freakin' way._

Then the ship shuddered as several turbolaser rounds slammed into the deflector screens. "C'mon, Raven, we gotta go help!"

"O-of course." She pulled her hood up over her head and followed him down the corridor.

Chewbacca was growling orders at Cyborg, who silently blessed his foresight in downloading that translation program. Han was still out from Boba Fett's stun bolt, so Victor was currently seated in the co-pilot's seat in the control room of the ship. He quickly plugged himself into the console, the better to react faster to the situation.

Which was rapidly deteriorating even further. _"*Imperial Star Destroyer, coordinates fifteen degrees port! Shift ten degrees starboard! Mark 12, vector seven point five! Initiate jump-start!_ _Now!*_ _"_ Chewbacca shouted and growled. _"*When he wakes up, I am so having words with that worthless—*"_ At that exact moment, they felt the shudderings as the Star Destroyer's forward artillery began to pelt the Millennium Falcon's meager defensive shields. _"*…stupid, good-for-nothing, drunken-*"_ More rounds hit the shields, and they began to crumble. _"*…paid attention to business, we'd have been long gone, but noooOOOOooo….*"_ Chewbacca interrupted his tirade when he saw the _second_ Star Destroyer appear on the scanners. _"*You! Cyborg! Divert power to shields three and four!*"_ Then he went back to what was obviously his favorite topic. _"*-low-down, cheapskate…*"_ But Victor grinned as he heard the undercurrent of affection in the Wookie's tone. Had anybody else said those same things about Han, they'd have found themselves facing one very angry Wookie.

"We're bein' painted by targeting masers!" Cyborg scanned the readouts desperately. Any second now, he'd zig when he should've zagged and they'd come apart like a clay pigeon. "Do we have any electronic counter measures?"

" _*The way a CERTAIN PERSON wastes our credits, we're lucky we aren't powered by a wood burning stove!*"_

"Wait," said Raven, just then following Garfield into the cockpit / bridge of the ship. "Did you say, masers?"

"Yeah. Think you can do somethin', Rae?"

"Maybe." And Raven concentrated….

For thousands of kilometers around the Millennium Falcon, empty space became highly reflective of maser fire. All of a sudden, the targeting systems of both Star Destroyers were reading a painted area the size of Earth's moon. "Sir!" The main gunnery officer turned to the captain. "We're getting multiple readings, sir! These _can't_ be right!"

"Too right they can't. They've got something, some jamming mechanism. Use visual targeting."

Space became alive as turbolaser bolts and ion beams shredded the void, most going wild, but some missing the fleeing vessel only by inches. "Chewbacca! How much longer till we can jump?" Victor was directly connected to the _Falcon's_ main nav console, juggling power from one system to another, strengthening those shields most in danger, a desperate act he couldn't keep up, especially in the face of such firepower.

" _*Three more minutes!*"_

 _KABOOOOMM!_ Went a bolt just past the viewport. "Don't know that we've got 'em!"

" _*Then hold on to whichever of your bodily organs you value most!*"_ He savagely punched a button, and the _Falcon_ shuddered as though it were being shaken in the teeth of some enormous creature….

….and suddenly the stars exploded past the viewscreen, lengthening into impossible lines and shapes, as something slammed into the ship with the power of a falling star.

….

"Sir?" The bridge commander saluted the Captain of the Star Destroyer _Avenger_. "We, uh, we lost them, sir."

"I see that, lieutenant." _Lord Vader isn't going to be happy._ Captain Needa worried. While he was a veteran officer in the service of the Imperial Navy, he knew things were a bit different now. He could not afford many more such mishaps. He gulped as he remembered that Lord Vader had been known to "demote" inept officers straight into the recycler units. "Contact the _Desolator._ See if they were able to glean any information regarding that…unique countermeasure field that ship deployed." His eyes focused far away. "A ship of that size and type shouldn't even have a cloaking mechanism, let alone military-grade countermeasures like that….I've never even heard of one that worked that way. We must know more. Did we get a sensor reading on its heading?"

"No, sir. The countermeasure field prevented any sort of sensor lock-on."

" _Frag._ Well, I'll have to inform the higher-ups. I only hope this wasn't THE ship they were looking for. Heads could roll if it was." _Mine might be one of them._

…

On board the _Falcon:_ Beast Boy found Raven standing in front of the viewport, her gaze fixed on the unknown beyond. That didn't really surprise him. He also wouldn't have been surprised to learn she could see, or sense, whatever was beyond those wavy blue lines. "Hey, Rae."

She looked over at him. The way she moved made Garfield wonder if she was asleep, maybe sleepwalking. Raven had never been known to sleepwalk before, however… "Garfield?"

"Yeah. You know, I just wanted to say, it's good we found you and Robin. I mean, Cy and me, we were about going nuts. We thought we were the only ones in this whole crazy universe." _Plus I was sure you'd been hurt._ The dreams he'd had… "And that was some awesome move you pulled back there! I didn't know you could do something like that!" Now would come the time when she'd simply grunt and turn away, dismissing the feat—and his praise—as though unworthy of her attention. But he trailed off in midsentence. Something about the way she was standing….

She had turned fully towards him. "I'm glad I found you, too, Garfield." Now she approached him, hood down, cloak closed around her, eyes fixed on the floor. He was puzzled. That wasn't really like the Raven he knew, not completely. _Was_ she sleepwalking?

He paused, not really knowing how to proceed. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was happening, something he really didn't know how to deal with. "Uh, yeah. Glad we found you both. Say, you, you haven't seen or heard anything about Star, have y-*" But again he stopped.

Because Raven had approached him to within a few inches, well within his personal space, still keeping her gaze lowered. As Raven's own personal space was usually measured in yards, that was most _definitely_ not like her. "I'm especially glad I found you."

"Yeah, Cy and me, we're glad you-*"

"You don't understand. I'm especially glad I found _you._ " And this time, he heard the emphasis in her voice.

Raven reached out a hand from within the folds of her cloak and placed it on his chest, still not looking up. "Uh…Raven?" What was going on here?

Now she looked up, into his face, her purple eyes once again transfixing his own green ones. Once again, there was that _look_ on her face, that strange, very un-Raven-esque _look_ that he couldn't decipher. It looked, for all the world, like a scene from a movie where the girl is about to kiss the guy….

Couldn't _possibly_ be. This was _Raven!_

Then, like a light bulb turning off, the moment was gone, and she withdrew her hand back into her cloak. Turning her gaze back to the floor, she pulled her hood up. "I, I really must go meditate." And she was gone, leaving a very puzzled Garfield Logan standing in the corridor, scratching his head.

What the hell had just happened here?

….

"Yeah, yeah, I've only heard it about a hundred times, Chewie. Geez. Give it a rest. Okay. You were right, and I was wrong. Satisfied? Okay. Matter over. Let's move on, shall we?" A still-dizzy Han Solo had just come onto the small bridge of the _Millennium Falcon_ , and was in the process of receiving an earful of growls and complaints from his partner. "Like I don't have enough of a headache, you gotta go an' add to it." More growls. "Okay, already! I agreed I deserved it! Now where the frag are we, anyway?" Cyborg, scanning the controls, grinned as he heard the exchange. Hoping to deflect some of the Wookiee's rage, he turned to Han's partner. "By the way, in the confusion, we didn't get introduced. I'm called Cyborg, but my real name is Victor. Or Vic, whichever you prefer."

" _*Gladtameetcha. I'm Chewbacca. The guy with the extraordinarily poor luck in choosing partners!*"_ Again he turned and gestured to a still-headache-y Han, who winced, at more than just the headache. _"*How is it you understand Wookie?*"_

"Downloaded a translation program back on Tatooine. With all the various species there, it seemed like a good idea." He shrugged. "One of the benefits of being part computer."

"I don't understand," said Luke, for what seemed like the millionth time. "How am I supposed to use this…this lightsaber _without my eyes?_ Wouldn't that be dangerous?" This was the fourth time that he'd gotten the seat of his trousers singed from the floating practice drone Ben had set up for him. Robin watched from the side, as did Han, from his seat forward in the cockpit.

"Of course it is. But that's why we're practicing now. I've set your saber to a low power level—it's still dangerous, so don't go waving it around—but this is the only way to get the feel of using the Force. You have to trust your feelings, your instincts. Doing so requires you to throw off all your experience of using your eyes. Here." Ben produced a standard starfighter's helmet, with the blast visor down. "Put this on. This way you _can't_ see. It'll make it easier."

Luke put the helmet on. He couldn't see a thing. _This is ridiculous,_ he thought, and, even as he thought that, felt the familiar sting of the drone's laser as it zapped him, yet again, in the butt. Privately, he wondered if old Ben hadn't deliberately programmed it to zero in on him there.

"Feel the Force, Luke. Reach out…it's out there, you just have to be open to it…"

Hm. There _was_ something here, something…he couldn't think of words to describe it. It was like he was in a powerful magnetic field, and he could _feel_ turning one way, then the other, could _feel_ objects he couldn't see, could tell where they were in relation to himself…

There! The drone was about to zap him again! But this time, he dodged to one side, and brought up the lightsaber, blocking the laser. The drone immediately zipped behind him, and once again, homed in on the seat of his pants. He twisted, dodging, and brought the energy-blade down on the drone's outer shell. It stopped at once, and fell to the floor. "Hey!" he said, ripping off the helmet, "did I do that?"

"You most assuredly did, Luke. You've a natural gift for the Force. But," Ben said, as he bent over to pick up the fallen drone, "you must be careful not to become overconfident. You've a long ways to go before you master the Force."

"It…it was like I could _feel_ the drone, in my mind…"

"Yes, that's how it works. But as I said, you've a long ways to go."

"Waste of time, if you ask me," said Han, from his seat at the console. "I've been all over this galaxy, kid. I'm not saying there's nothing to this 'Force' thing, but I've always found a good blaster to be a better argument-winner than any old religion."

Luke noticed Robin shaking his head. "Not trying to discourage you, Luke, but I have to say I sorta side with Han on this. This 'Force' may well be as powerful as Ben says it is, but it sounds like something that'll take years and years to learn. That's good if you _have_ years and years. But in the short run, it might be best to concentrate on something a bit more conventional. After all, there's a _reason_ why people invented weapons in the first place." He got up from where he'd been tinkering with the odd purple and tan scaled armored suit he'd been wearing. Privately, Luke was wondering where he'd gotten it, and that weird energized gauntlet he wore on his right arm. "But there _are_ some things I can show you. Here. Come over here, and stand like this…" And Robin began to show him how to balance himself in combat, showing him certain simple but effective moves. "These take a bit of practice, but they can be quickly learned. But it IS like Ben says: you gotta practice. Whether it's this 'Force' thing, or the martial arts, or—my personal recommendation—a combination of the two, you'll have to practice." He glanced at Obi-Wan. "And from what you've told me, about what happened with those bandits, it sounds like it might be kinda dangerous for you to _not_ practice using the Force. But don't neglect the other, either."

"Sound advice, Luke," said Obi-Wan, smiling. "Young Master Robin here has apparently seen his share of battles. As have I."

"Ah, you're both crazy," muttered Han, turning back to his console. Then he turned back to them. "Tell ya one thing, kid: the absolute _best_ combat move is ta stay out of it in the first place."

"That, too, is sound advice," agreed Obi-Wan.

….

On board the Death Star: Trooper Vanderk was just finishing up his detail, when he noticed the new trooper.

Something about the way the figure moved told him it was a female, a woman inside that armor. _Must be a new arrival,_ he thought. He knew there were no females in his squad.

She was fumbling with the hardlead, trying to connect her armor to the port for daily updates. "Here," he said, "let me." He took the lead from her and plugged it into the port. "You must be new here."

"Yes. I am." Her voice was muffled from inside the helmet, but he thought she sounded cute. "I have only just arrived. I thank you for your help."

"You'll get the hang of it. It's a pain, but it's the only way to keep these suits up to date. They tried wireless," he said. For some reason, he felt the need to talk. He didn't want her to think he was being patronizing; some female troopers, especially new arrivals, had been known to get downright hostile at what they perceived as a condescending approach. "But it never worked properly. Too many fluctuating EM fields." He sat down beside her, holding his own helmet in his hands, while her armor downloaded its updates. She hadn't removed her helmet, and he found himself wishing she would. She sounded like somebody he'd like to get to know better….

 _Now stop that. You know there's a reason why there's a "no fraternizing" rule on board ship. Not a good idea to get involved with someone you can't get away from. Especially if they're armed. After all,_ he told himself firmly, _that's what they have shore leave for._

 _And I_ _will_ _be a proper Imperial soldier._

Still….

"You are most kind," she said, her helmet swiveling to watch him. "I appreciate your help."

"You're welcome." He sat there, beside her, leaning over, looking at the ground between his feet. He didn't really have to be here; in fact, he really should be getting on to his bunk, his watch being over. First rule of active service: never, ever miss a chance to get some sleep.

Her helmet swiveled downward slightly. "As armor, this suit seems to be the most inefficient."

" _The_ _most inefficient"?_ That was an odd way of phrasing it. But what the hey. He knew some races had different patterns of speech. Personally, he found it kind of appealing. Once again, he found himself wondering what she looked like underneath that white armor. _Ah, get a grip, Corl. She probably has green scales and five-inch fangs_. But somehow he couldn't believe that. "Yeah, well, what can I say. Lowest bidder, you know."

She studied him for a moment, her helmet turned towards him. "Something troubles you."

"Huh?" He lifted his head sharply at that. He hadn't thought he'd been doing anything in particular. Was he that obvious? "W-what makes you say that?"

"I can tell. You are troubled."

He sighed, looking back at his feet. It occurred to him that this was the closest to a date he'd had in a long while. A long, long while. "It's nothing. Nothing important."

"If it troubles you, it is important. Tell me."

He knew he should be cautious. There were, after all, rumors of "loyalty officers" sprinkled here and there in the ranks, placed there especially to determine if any of the troopers were less than one hundred percent committed to the Empire. The eyes and ears of Imperial Security. He'd gotten off lucky with Sorn, earlier. He shouldn't be pressing his luck….

But….

"It's just," he sighed, "Well, it's really nothing. I guess when I signed on, I was expecting…I dunno. Something more…well, something different." He remembered the rebel ship…all those unarmed men… "Maybe I had a different idea about what I'd be doing."

"What did you think you would be doing?" Her armor was approaching full; he could see the red bar turning blue as it reached all the way across the readout.

"I dunno. Going off, defending the Empire. Fighting off invaders, pirates." He paused, an almost inaudible chuckle coming from somewhere deep inside. "Guess I'd seen too many holovids's. The heroic armed forces, the marines, fighting off the scourge of the galaxy. Defending freedom, fighting monsters, saving whole planets, you know." He waved his own image off, dismissing it with a roll of his eyes. "Oh, I knew it wasn't gonna be _quite_ like that, I mean, that's all make-believe and drama. But…" _But I never expected to be ordered to gun down unarmed men and women._

"And you see it is not."

"Yeah, well, it's the real world. I mean, the Empire still needs the day to day stuff done, too, you know. Just as important."

She hitched a bit closer, pulling her hardlead out of the port. Their suited hips were touching on the bench. There was no one else in the room at the time. "But you are still the troubled."

There was that turn of phrase again. Maybe Basic wasn't her native language. But now he was cautious. "Well, it's….nothing I really need to get into right now."

She paused, a long, long pause. Then, "It is not good, when you cannot trust another to speak. I understand. I do not wish you to do anything that would get you in the trouble." And she reached up and pulled off her helmet.

He couldn't help but gasp. She had to be the loveliest creature he'd laid eyes on: golden-orange skin, light green eyes, hair the color of _saffro_ tree leaves when the weather began to turn. It spilled out from underneath her helmet, falling down the back of her shoulders as she shook it free. She reached over and placed a gauntleted hand on his arm. "You are not a bad man. You have had to do bad things, but that does not make you a bad man.

"So, for that I must say, I apologize for what I must now do."

"W-*" His vocal chords were temporarily paralyzed by the sight of her. Then…

His head was _pounding._ And what was that bright light somebody was shining in his face? "He's coming around," said a man's voice.

"Wh—what happened?" He tried to sit up, but discovered he wasn't quite ready for _that_ yet, as the room swam around him.

"Easy there, soldier." The medic standing by his gurney took his arm with one hand, and gently pushed him back down onto the cot with the other. "That was one nasty tumble you took. Take it easy."

"Tumble? I fell?" His last recollection was the beautiful orange-skinned girl taking off her helmet. Aaand…what did she say? Something about an apology? For-*

Oh. "Yeah, thanks, doc." He again tried, more cautiously this time, to sit up, and this time he made it.

"Give it a little more time. That was a nasty blow." _Not as nasty as it could have been,_ he thought. Of course. I was all so clear now. The "trooper" had, in fact, been the alien intruder they'd been told to be on the lookout for. And she'd suckered him in perfectly. _I was so gullible._

 _Still, if you're gonna fall for a pretty face, it may as well be the best._

 _Stop that._

He was passing through the door on his way out of the infirmary when he happened to notice his identicard was missing.

….

On board the _Millennium Falcon_ : Raven was once again standing in front of the viewport, but, had Garfield been around to see her, he would have had a hard time believing her to be the same person he'd encountered previously.

Ben came around the corner of the corridor and stood there, watching the blue waves of hyperspace. He'd always found it somewhat exhilarating, himself. A glance at the dark sorceress next to him: she stood straight, staring fixedly ahead, eyes unwavering and unblinking, focused on something only she could see. Ben thought, to himself, that if she stood any straighter she might give herself back problems. "We're being followed." It was the first indication she'd given that she even knew he was there.

He grunted. "I had…suspected as much. I can sense a disturbance in the Force….it almost feels…familiar. But more than that, I cannot tell." He turned to her. "Can you determine if our pursuer is friend or foe?"

"No. Only that he, she, or it, is out there. Somewhere behind us. However, the simple fact that whoever it is, is attempting such stealth does not bode well for their intentions."

"Indeed." Again, a period of silence. He felt the need to speak. "Young Luke is progressing nicely."

"He is a fool. _You_ are a fool, for trusting in him so much." Now she turned to face him fully, and he found it took effort to look directly at her. It was almost like her eyes were emitting a palpable physical force. "You are sending him into a battle such as he has never even imagined, and ill-prepared at that. And you expect him to triumph. To emerge victorious. And all because 'his side is right, his cause is just.'" Ben winced at the venom in her voice. "That is self-delusion. Foolishness."

"And what would you do? Hide him away in a cave on Tatooine, and hope that the galaxy doesn't notice?"

"I would give him better preparation."

"Such as? Is one ever completely prepared for the onslaught of fate?" She said nothing. He moved a step closer. "Were you?" She said nothing, but right then, looking her straight in the eyes, Ben Kenobi was very glad that looks were not usually lethal. Instead, after a moment, she turned, her cloak swirling around her, and left.

….

"Ah, yes, Trooper 84C417, Corl Vanderk." The resupply officer looked over his terminal. "What can I do for you today?"

 _Go on, Corl. Tell him. Tell him you got jumped by the alien intruder on C34 deck, and, and in the ensuing scuffle, you lost your identicard._ "Ah, I, I need a new identicard."

"Is that all? Shouldn't be a problem. Here. Sign here, thumbprint there." He opened a compartment, drawing out a small round object, fitted neatly into a plastic case. "What happened to your old ID?"

 _It was stolen. I was jumped, and the intruder took my-* "_ It got smashed. I fell, fell right on it." _Now why did I say that?_

"Pity. You know you're supposed to turn those in …but it's such a pain to file those reports. It was smashed, you say? Nothing usable left?" He nodded. "Okay." The resupply officer turned to his stack of hardcopy reports, made a notation. "It happens. Say," he looked up suddenly. Vanderk was startled. "You didn't by any chance happen to lose it anywhere around 4DC, did you?"

Something told him to respond in the negative. "Uh, no sir. It, it was on deck C34. Right there in con room." _Appropriate, seeing as how I got conned._

"Hm. That's strange. I don't recall anything there that would….well, never mind. I got enough worries today. Here ya go. Just don't lose this one."

 _Now why did I do that?_

…

Darth Vader led the escort that took a shackled Leia to the command center of the battle station. "Ah. Senator." Grand Moff Tarkin was his usual immaculate self, uniform pressed so thoroughly that Leia wondered if he could cut himself on the creases. She smiled slightly at the thought. _Well, I can dream._

"Governor Tarkin. I should've expected to find you holding Vader's leash. I knew I smelled something foul when I was brought onboard. Now I know what it was."

"Charming to the last. You don't know how hard I found it signing the order to terminate your life."

"You mean you actually had the courage to do it yourself? I'm impressed."

He chuckled. "Princess Leia, before your execution, I would like you to be my guest at a ceremony that will make this battle station operational. No star system will dare oppose the emperor now."

She was unmoved. "The more you tighten your grip, Tarkin, the more star systems will slip through your fingers."

"Not after we demonstrate the power of this station. In a way, you have determined the choice of the planet that will be destroyed first. Since you are reluctant to provide us with the location of the rebel base, I have chosen to test this station's destructive power on your home planet of Alderaan."

She gasped. "No! Alderaan is peaceful, we have no weapons, you can't possibly-"  
"You'd prefer another target, perhaps a military target?" he snapped. "Then name the system!" She said nothing. "I grow weary of asking this, so this will be the last time: where is the rebel base?"

Leia Organa stood there, motionless, looking at the world that was her home. It seemed so fragile, so beautiful…. "Dantooine. They're on Dantooine."

Tarkin turned to Vader. "There. You see, Lord Vader? She can be reasonable." He turned to the gunnery officer. "You may proceed. Fire when ready."

"WHAT!"

"You're far too trusting, my dear. Dantooine is too remote to make an effective demonstration, but don't worry, we will deal with your rebel friends soon enough."

Vader held back a struggling Leia Organa. "You're a murderer!"

"I'm an Imperial officer, and a soldier." He nodded towards the gunnery officer. "You have your orders."

….

Deep within the bowels of the enormous ship, vast forces were brought into play. Energies were ignited, channeled, focused through crystals and funneled through superconducting conduits, mixed with exotic particles, their energy increased thousands of times over. Six beams lanced outward from the primary array, converging on a spot less than two kilometers from the surface of the station. The combined beam was redirected by powerful electromagnetic fields, directed outward towards the doomed planet.

The beam passed through the atmosphere and struck the surface of the planet like the hammer of the gods. Matter itself underwent a fundamental change, the effect of the exotic particles converting part of it to antimatter…

And Alderaan, the jewel of the Republic, a planet of teeming millions of sentient beings, exploded in a nova-like blast of gamma radiation and neutrinos, which sped outward, passing through the empty night of space like the ghosts of the murdered world.

 _To be continued…_


	8. Chapter 8: Alderaan

Teen Titans / Star Wars Crossover: Chapter 8: Alderaan

...

 _A collaboration between myself and Edgar H. Sutter, who deserves high praise for his input on this project, and his ability to tolerate me. I'm not sure which is the greater contribution...on second thought, yes I am.  
_

 _Neither of us owns any part of either the Teen Titans or the Star Wars franchises._

 _..._

Chapter 8: Alderaan

Two lightyears behind the _Millennium Falcon_ :

In the gloom of a darkened control room of a small craft, its pilot and master sat at the controls, steadily watching the shifting lines and colors of hyperspace. He didn't need instruments to follow the smuggler's craft; he could sense it in the Force. Plus, he knew where it would end up. He could have beaten it there, but he figured it was better to let Solo and company pave the way.

He knew about the Emperor's latest toy, the mobile battle station. He didn't care. The weapon itself didn't interest him in the slightest, nor did its purpose in the Alderaan system. It wasn't difficult to figure out what it would do once it got to Alderaan. That was unimportant.

What mattered was who was on it.

He smiled a smile any predator would have recognized. If it was who he thought it was—and he was almost one hundred percent sure it was—then he had an appointment with that individual.

An appointment only one of them would walk away from.

….

Private First Class Corl Vanderk, Imperial Navy, still felt a little numb.

Like a great many others, he'd watched the holovised destruction of Alderaan. While the other stormtroopers cheered ("That'll show those rebel scum!"), he found himself wondering: just what had he seen?

The Empire, at least, what he'd been told about it, stood for justice for all. Where was the justice in the destruction of a whole world?

He recognized it for what it was, of course: an object lesson. Stop fighting us, get in line, or we'll blow up your planets, too. He understood that the Empire had to strike at the rebels, but wasn't this going a bit overboard?

Shortly afterwards, he'd passed by a small locker room, and heard the sounds of sobbing coming from within. He'd peeked in and seen Irima Solstice, from the 847th squad, sitting on a low bench, head in her hands, weeping bitterly, tears falling freely to the floor. And he'd remembered she'd had family on Alderaan.

So he'd carefully closed the door, softly so she wouldn't know he was there, and had gone about his way. He didn't know what to do. There was nothing he could do to help her; she'd be afraid to let anyone know how this had affected her, for fear her loyalty would be called into question. Sometimes, troopers who exhibited "doubts" tended to disappear. Previously, he'd always thought they were simply reassigned somewhere else.

Now he wasn't so sure.

But now….now he didn't exactly know what to feel himself.

"I know I saw something down this way," said the lead trooper. The detail Vanderk had been assigned to had been following the trail of the alien intruder into the guts of the Imperial Mobile Battlestation 3003 for some time now. The captain glanced at his forearm mounted display. "Readouts agree. I'm getting definite life-signs. There's definitely _some_ body down here without authorization."

Corl Vanderk shifted nervously. He didn't know where the alien girl he'd met—and who'd mugged him for his indenticard—was, but he was hoping she was far away from this patrol of his. They'd heard how the alien seemed to shrug off ordinary blaster bolts. That was why the first sergeant was armed with an armor-piercing proton laser. One shot should go right through her stolen armor, and through her. Vanderk found he didn't really like to think of that beautiful face lying on the deck, in a pool of blood, dead.

But he was an Imperial soldier, and he had his orders. And it wasn't like she was a non-combatant, or that she was unarmed, like the men and women he'd had to shoot aboard the rebel transport. She didn't need a weapon; by all accounts, she _was_ a weapon.

Nor was it like she was some weak, helpless fem, either. He winced, slightly, as he remembered the blow she'd given him. He realized it could've been a lot worse, but still, there was no getting around the fact that it had been the actions of an enemy soldier.

So, no, he really had no excuse. _This_ time, he would perform his duty. He would be a proper Imperial soldier, and he would make his family, with their long history of military service, proud.

Suddenly, a flurry of starbolts erupted out from behind a large machine. "Take cover!" The troopers scattered, seeking what cover there was. Several of them caught a starbolt each, the force of the bolt slamming them against the bulkhead, knocking them unconscious. Corl's head's-up display showed damage to their suits, but the armor had protected the men within. They'd have asteroid-sized bruises, though. "Watch out for that coolant tank!"

The intruder flashed out from behind the capacitator. Devoid of armor, her sylph-like figure darted between the transformer modules like a fish in the water. She moved so fast, Vanderk could hardly see her. She ripped a support beam loose and hurled it at them. Troopers scattered as the heavy beam crashed its way through their midst. Like all the rest, Vanderk dove for cover.

All at once, a sun-bright beam lanced out, catching the flying figure square in the chest. From all the way across the chamber, Corl could hear her gasp as the kinetic impact of the particle beam slammed her against the far wall. She slumped down, smoke rising from a large, ugly, blackened area in the middle of her chest.

"Wow," said the sergeant. "That should've punched a hole clear through her. She must be some _kind'a_ tough. What is she _made_ of, anyway?"

"She's a greenie. No telling. You heard about that Zillo monster. That thing nearly killed Lord Vader himself." The captain approached the fallen figure warily. "Is she dead?"

"No, sir." The sergeant consulted his hand-held. "The angle of that shot, she oughtta be _extremely_ dead. But she's definitely wounded, though."

The troopers came up, closing in on the fallen figure. Vanderk could see her chest rise and fall, her head falling down towards her chest, that hair he'd so admired frizzed from the proton charge. "So now what?" one asked.

"Lord Vader wants her alive for questioning," said another.

"Screw that," said the sergeant, hefting his weapon. "You saw what she could do. I'm not taking any chances. Lord Vader doesn't have to have everything he wants." He looked at the others. "She was playing dead, and when we got closer, she attacked again. I had to shoot her a second time, just to get her to stop." Corl, in the back of the group, saw the others nod in agreement; yep, that's the way it went down, alright.

The sergeant raised the heavy p-laser….

….

Starfire gradually came to a painful consciousness. _Is this what comes after life?_ But no, she hurt too much. That is, unless she was in the wrong place.

She slowly became aware of her surroundings. She was in a dark, enclosed area, no windows, more of a large closet than a room, with boxes and crates piled high around the walls. There was a huge, oddly shaped bandage on her upper torso, just above her ribcage. Somebody was holding her head up. "Here," said a voice, "drink this." A bottle was held up to her lips.

"I…" But she found she was thirsty, and gulped the liquid down ravenously. It wasn't water, but something that tasted like a thin broth of some sort, and she could feel her accelerated metabolism routing the nutrients into her system. She coughed. "Who…?" Her vision cleared, and she recognized the same trooper she'd met in the com room, whose identicard she'd stolen. "You!"

"Yeah." He helped her sit up. She was dizzy, and she _hurt._

"What…happened?" she asked, putting a hand to her head, wincing.

He grunted, steadying her. She wasn't as heavy as he'd thought she'd be. "You got centered by a proton laser. You should be dead; those things are designed to punch through armor plate. Don't know how you survived it."

Memory came flooding back to her. The battle, the pile-driver blast of the beam… "But what happened? I am not the captured, am I?"

"No." He sighed. "You're not. I…well, I brought you here."

She looked at her surroundings, then at him, suspiciously. "And where is 'here'?"

"We're in a storage room just off of deck 4DC. But we can't stay here long." He glanced around, somewhat nervously, she thought.

She looked at him a long, long time. "Did you save me?"

He sat on the low bench, helmet in his hands. He nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"How? And…why?"

"The coolant tank overhead developed a sudden leak. Almost as if it had been hit with a blaster bolt. Everybody had to scramble, or get frozen solid. Why? I…I've been asking myself that question."

She sat fully upright, sitting on the floor, crossing her legs, watching him closely. She could feel her body temperature rising as her healing factor kicked into high gear, feel the wound closing. "And what have you answered yourself?" she asked, softly.

He was silent, remembering. The sergeant saying, _"You saw what she could do. I'm not taking any chances."_ His raising the beam weapon…

And his own thoughts: _No. Not again._ "You were down. They were gonna kill you. I…I couldn't see it. I couldn't let it happen."

Again she was silent for a long moment. Then, "I hope you are not doing the falling for the pretty face."

He sighed and leaned back, shaking his head, his helmet still in his hands. "It's isn't that." He looked at her, and she saw the confusion in his soul, the soul of a young man at a major crossroads in his life. "I, I was raised to believe in certain _principles._ The Empire's supposed to have certain _ideals,_ to _stand_ for something _._ But it seems like, ever since I signed on…I keep getting my nose rubbed in, in situations where those principles, those ideals, just get ignored.

"I could see, like, one time or two, even. I mean, combat, an' all. Yeah, it's dirty, sometimes. But it seems like _every time_ I turn around, I see something that….just isn't right. The Empire _I_ signed on to serve is supposed to _fight_ for what's right. And that doesn't seem to be happening.

"You were down, you were helpless. Killing you, like that, just because it would've been _convenient_ , would've been…wrong." He finished, helplessly. He really didn't know any better way to explain it, even to himself.

She got up, wincing at the pain. Whatever he'd put on her was accelerating her already rapid healing process, but it still hurt. She sat by him on the bench. "I have said it before: you are not a bad man.

"What is your name?"

"Huh? Oh, right." They'd never actually exchanged names. She'd gotten his identicard, but that didn't necessarily mean she knew how to read it. "I'm Corl Vanderk, private first class, Imperial Stormtrooper Corps."

"And I am Starfire. My friends call me Koriand'r. Or Kory. You may call me that, as well, if you like. After all that has happened, I believe," she said with a small smile, her hand going to the bandage, "that I can count you as a friend.

"So now what, Corl Vanderk? You cannot go back to your squad, can you?"

"I don't know. There was a lot of confusion, and nobody was paying any attention to anything but you. I'm sure they heard the shot, but it could have just been a coupling or bolt letting go…you know." _At least_ , _I hope they think that_.

She put a hand on his arm. "You cannot risk it. If you go back, you will be the martialed of court. They will kill you." He shifted, uneasily. It was possible. "Come with me," she urged. "Let us free the Princess Leia. Together we will find a way to stop these bad men. Together we will save her home world."

He looked at her. "You mean…you haven't heard?"

Two minutes later: It was almost like the tears _exploded_ from her eyes. _"Noooo!"_ She rocked back and forth on the seat beside him, face in her hands. He dithered, unsure as to whether to put his arm around her or not.

Suddenly, she sprang up, the look in her eyes so savage it made him back away. "I, I will _kill_ this Grand Moff Tarkin! I will _kill_ this Lord Vader! By my own hands, _they will both die_!"

Greatly daring, he grasped her by both arms. "Starfire, _listen to me._ You _can't_ take on the entire battle station, not by yourself! No matter how powerful you are, you _just can't do it._ And, and what's done is done; you can't change it. The best thing you can do right now is get the Princess and escape. Both of you."

" _You."_ He drew back at the white-hot anger in her tone. "You watched all this, and you _did nothing?_ What kind of, of _klorbag_ are you?"

He said nothing, but just sat back down, head hung, eyes on the floor. After a moment, her fury passed. "I, I am…sorry. You did not deserve that. Please forgive me. I know there was nothing you could have done."

"Yeah," he muttered, so low she could barely hear him. "Maybe if I tell myself that enough, I'll actually start to believe it."

She knelt down in front of him, and grasped him by the arm. "Come with us. You do not belong here, with these evil men."

"I can't, Starfire. I swore an oath. Not just to the Empire, but to the _people_ of the Empire, to protect and serve. To the _ideals_ of the Empire. Even if the Empire doesn't believe in those anymore, or never did, _I_ still do." He paused. "I'm no rebel. I can't go with you.

"But I can help you."

…

Darth Vader led the escort that took Leia Organa back to her cell. Leia herself was torn between her own kind of numbness and a volcanic rage.

Alderaan. The Jewel of the Republic. Her homeworld. Gone. Gone in an instant. "I have to say," she said, addressing the silent Vader, "this is a new low, even for you. There were _innocent civilians_ on that planet. And you just blew them all to hell. Just to show you could. Just to demonstrate your power. From Tarkin, I sorta expected it. He's a rat, anyway. But somehow I expected better from you. I guess that'll teach me."

Darth Vader said nothing.

"And you know it's all for nothing. The rebels will be even more determined now. They'll know you'll show them no mercy; they'll show you none. So you destroyed one world. One militarily insignificant world. The rebellion's all over the stars. You can't blow them all up. If you do, you'll find yourself ruling an empty universe. But that would be fitting, for the likes of you."

They'd reached her cell. Now Vader turned to her. "Princess, in the end, your rebellion matters not. Alderaan was the first planet to be destroyed for its opposition, but it will not be the last. Such will be the fate of every planet the rebels control.

"The Republic was weak. The Jedi were weak. They were unable to maintain order, and the resulting wars and chaos gave testament to that.

" _We_ are strong. We _will_ maintain order. That is the nature of things: the strong rule, and the ruled obey."

"Or suffer the consequences," she finished for him.

He nodded, his black helmet moving back and forth ever so slightly. "Or suffer the consequences."

….

On board the _Falcon:_ Ben suddenly staggered, his hand going to his head. "Ben? What's wrong?" Luke was by his side in an instant, helping him stand.

"I sensed a great disturbance in the force, as if millions of voices cried out in terror, and were suddenly silenced." He looked up at the rest of them. Robin, Han, and Chewbacca looked on anxiously. Han might not believe in the Force, but his experience-honed instincts could tell when something was wrong. "I fear…something terrible has happened."

"Hey!" The turned, to see Garfield carrying a limp Raven. "Guys, help! She just collapsed, all of a sudden!"

Sickbay: Cyborg ran his own built-in med scanners over the unconscious body of the sorceress. He trusted these more than the ones in the ship, having had some experience with Raven's unique physiology in the past. "I can't find anything _physically_ wrong with her." He shook his head. "I really can't check for anything else. When did this happen, Gar?"

"I suspect," broke in Obi-Wan, "that it happened about the same time I sensed what I sensed. Raven is an empath; the distress I sensed would have hit her a hundred-fold or more. Can you do anything for her?"

Cyborg shook his head. "Not much. In the past, about all we've been able to do, in cases like this, was to support her biological needs while she healed herself." He reached over and raised one of Raven's eyelids. "Looks like she's put herself into her healing trance. That's an automatic thing with her. But how long it'll take it to do its thing, that I couldn't tell you."

"Hey, people," Han had stuck his head in the door of the infirmary, "Just thought you wanted to know: we're about to break out of hyperspace, into the Alderaan system."

…..

Imperial Mobile Battlestation 3003: "But _why_ are there no guards in the vicinity?" Starfire asked, her voice muffled beneath the "liberated" helmet she wore.

Trooper Vanderk shook his head. "You must not've been here very long. Everybody knows about 4DC." The two were currently crossing what was, to Starfire, an uncomfortably open area, at least as wide as a football field back on Earth. He stopped, and gestured overhead. There, over in one corner, was a colossal curved surface, made of some smooth material so black that Starfire's eyes had a hard time even seeing it. "That, over there, is actually part of a spherical construct. That's where they generate the exotic particles they mix with the superlaser, where it gets its destructive power. But exactly how it works…ask four different physicists, and you'll get four different answers. But however it works…things happen around here. Equipment failures. Mechanical breakdowns. And…people get sick. Or they develop mental problems. Anyway, bottom line is, it's unhealthy for humans, and nobody comes here unless they have to. I understand even the techs don't come here unless they absolutely have to, and then they do whatever it is they came to do and get out. But what causes that effect, no one seems to know.

"So, no, no guards. But even better: no real security cam presence. And most of the few that are, are offline pretty much all the time.

"But you see why I said we couldn't stay here long."

Starfire eyed the black surface, a crafty smile on her face. "Soooo…this is where the station gets its power from, is it not?"

He half turned to her. "Yeah, and I know what you're thinking. Believe me, it wouldn't work. That thing, that generator or whatever it is, is surrounded by so much shielding that even the station's own superlaser couldn't even so much as scratch it.

"Rumor has it, it's something the Empire found, some kind of alien machine. What it's actually supposed to do, we don't know. We only know what it does, what it can be made to do."

Starfire deflated a little bit. That made sense. "Well, it was the good thought."

"In here." He motioned her into another dusty, darkened room, but this one showed signs of being more than just a storage area. Perhaps some sort of control room.

He took off his helmet and slid into a seat, switching on the terminal in front of him, praying it would work. Usually, if equipment had been properly powered down, it went undamaged, but… "Okay, here." He pointed to a schematic of the Battlestation. "Here we are. And here," again a point, "is where the hanger bay is." He pulled up a three-d image of the hanger bay, projecting it into the air over the monitor, rotating. He punched a few buttons, highlighting the proper release buttons and marking areas to avoid. "These are the shuttles. They're hyperspace-capable, but not very fast. The smaller ones, the TIE fighters, don't have that capability. They are a lot faster, though." He pulled up another schematic, with a rotating 3D visual, first of the outside of the shuttle, then moving inwards, showing her the controls. "I don't think any of the shuttles we currently have on board have any sort of electronic countermeasures, so you'll have to rely on surprise, and what speed you can coax out of the craft. I'll print you out a diagram of the controls…" And he ran one off for her. She'd taken her helmet off, and was leaning over him, watching the terminal. That incredible hair of hers was hanging alongside his face, proving to be very distracting. She didn't seem to be aware of it, however. "Here's the schematics of the station, at least enough to get you to the hanger. And here." He downloaded it to a cube and handed it to her. "I've included some entry codes for the shuttles. Just insert this cube into one, and it'll unlock. But it'll only work once, so be careful. And this cube," he held up another, "ought to scramble the security system long enough for you to make it beyond range of the sensors. Key word, however, is 'ought to.' Needless to say, they don't leave that kind of information just lying around somewhere, so I wouldn't put my total trust in it, if I were you."

She took it, turning it over in her hands, and looked at him. "But can you not be the detected, looking for such sensitive information?"

"Ah, well, about that…" He blushed, "let's just say, uh, sometimes troopers get, uh, well, we get some time on our hands, and, uh, sometimes…well, somebody once showed me how to go through proxy servers, so a search can't be traced. Uhm." He rubbed the side of his face nervously.

For a moment she was puzzled, and a little suspicious. Then the light dawned. "Ah. I _see._ " She giggled, a mischievous look on her face. "You are looking up the naughty pictures, no?"

"Not me! I mean, uh, I mean," he stammered. Somehow it was ten times worse with Starfire. "Uh, I mean, I, uh, know _how_ , but, but…oh, gods…" He couldn't seem to make his tongue work properly.

She laughed. "It is all of right. You are a group of men. It is normal. I do not think less of you." Abruptly, she leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. "But now you had best go, before you are missed."

…

Light years away, on a small dusty world: The crime overlord known as "Jabba the Hutt" sat in his luxury room, enjoying what was to him a light snack. To anyone else, it would have looked like the contents of a small supermarket.

Fortuna Bib, as always, was present, ready to carry out his lord's requests and orders. "But I confess to some curiosity, my lord," he began, a bit diffidently. Jabba was not always fond of questions, but he seemed to be in a good humor. In fact, he'd been in this good humor ever since the rogue freighter, the _Millennium Falcon_ , had managed to elude its pursuers and escape into the depths of hyperspace. "Why do you seem in such good spirits? After all, the outlaw has eluded you, and taken a sizable amount of your credits with him. Usually, that tends to make you upset."

Jabba responded in between bites. "I get upset when the situation is out of control. But it is not out of control, Bib. Far from it, in fact.

"You see, I know exactly where Solo's ship is."

Fortuna Bib raised an eyebrow. "You do?"

"Yes. It isn't difficult to place tracking devices on one's opponent's ship, especially when one is on extremely good terms with the manager of the parts depot from which one's opponent's actually bought the parts. In his haste to leave, Solo failed to run even a standard security check. So I know exactly where he is."

"Then it's fortunate that the Imperials discovered him before he could do so."

Jabba smiled a thoroughly unpleasant smile. "Fortune," he stated, "had nothing to do with it."

…..

"Where, exactly, are we?" Luke was, like the rest of them, looking out the forward viewscreens. "I thought we were going to Alderaan."

"We're on course," said Han, sounding puzzled. "It should be coming into visual range." They looked. Nothing but asteroidal rocks. "The asteroid belt's further out."

"Wait. Look, look there." Ben pointed to one of the larger space boulders. "Can you zoom in on that rock?"

Han increased the magnification once, twice, three times. The rock floated on the screen, turning over. And then they saw it.

On the side just now coming into view was what had once been a part of a building. The few remaining stones were scorched and burned.

"People," said Ben solemnly, "I believe we've reached Alderaan. This asteroid belt is all that's left of it."

"No way," said a shocked Han. The others were stunned, too, by the sheer _enormity_ of what had happened. "It would take a thousand ships to do this. Destroy a whole planet? Ten thousand."

"Wait, waitaminute," Cyborg said, looking, hypnotized, at the evidence of destruction. "Remember what Jabba said? This, this new Battlestation, that's what it does. Destroys planets. Looks like he was right!"

"Wait." Han's attention was momentarily captured by Cyborg's words. "Jabba? As in 'Jabba the Hutt'? _That_ Jabba?"

"There's another?"

" _He's_ the one backing you guys?"

"Yeah." Cyborg glanced at their pilot. "Sounds like you know 'im."

"Oh, do I." Suddenly, he grinned, the scene of devastation outside momentarily pushed away. "I am gonna have such a laugh about this…"

"Later," said Ben. "For now, it looks like we're too late. And, if indeed this is all that's left of Alderaan, then that means-*" He was interrupted by a sharp alarm _._ On the viewscreen, a fighter craft flashed by on a strafing run.

" _*Fighter craft! Imperial! We're made!*"_ Chewbacca howled. _"*Cyborg! Plug in!*"_

"No way," growled Han. "This is _my_ ship." He shoved himself into the pilot's seat. "Chewie, plot us a course outta here!"

Robin was already running for the gun emplacements. In typical Robin fashion, he'd already checked them out. "Luke! Grab one!" Luke slid into the other gunseat.

"How does this thing work?" Luke shouted, across the Robin, or, for that matter, anybody.

"Just like a video game!"

"What's a video game?"

The fighter screamed in for another round. _"Wa Hoo!"_ Robin swiveled his seat, hands on the controls, thumb on the red button. Couldn't be simpler.

He missed. "Crap!" Then he bit his tongue. _I'll bet Batman never says "crap."_

On the other side, Luke was trying to get accustomed to this strange arrangement of swiveling seats and what Robin had inexplicably called "joysticks." He didn't see any joy whatsoever in this whole arrangement.

"TIE fighters don't have hyperdrive," shouted Han. "It couldn't _possibly_ have followed us from Tatooine. No way."

"It didn't _have_ to!" shouted Cyborg, over the din. "Don't you see? If Alderaan's been destroyed that means this Death Star thing _is already here._ _That's_ where it's from!"

Both Han and Ben's eyes widened as they took in the import of that. "Chewie, plot us an emergency jump outta here! _Now!"_

" _*Too late! We're caught in a tractor beam!*"_

The ship shuddered, as the beam drew it in inexorably…


	9. Chapter 9: The Death Star

Star Wars / Teen Titans Crossover: A Galaxy Far, Far Away

Chapter 9: The Death Star

…

 _I couldn't have done this without the help and guidance of Edgar H. Sutter, whose knowledge of the Star Wars universe is nothing less than encyclopedic. His familiarity with the Teen Titans universe ain't nuthin' to sneeze at, neither. Give him a shout-out, if you like this story._

 _Neither he nor I own any part of the Star Wars or Teen Titans franchise._

… _.._

Chapter 9: The Death Star

"Alright, what are our options?" asked Robin. "You got any more tricks up your sleeve?" He directed his question to Han, but his stance included Ben as well.

The Millennium Falcon had been caught in a powerful tractor beam almost immediately after exiting hyperspace in the Alderaan system. Everyone there knew that such an _insistent_ invitation seldom meant anything good.

"Let me see…" Han flipped switches, shunting power into the main engines. "No go. Can't go forward, can't go back. Can't break away. That must be some _mother_ of a tractor beam."

In the small ship's sickbay, Garfield was keeping watch over Raven, praying she was alright. He didn't know what could have hit her, to knock her down like it had, but it had to be powerful. The only other time he'd ever heard of her needing to use this "healing trance" thing (whatever that was) was when the supervillain called Adonis (along with himself) had been mutated into superbeasts. He didn't recall anyone telling him any of the particulars about that, whether or not she'd been physically hurt, or whether the sheer psychic _force_ of Adonis' assault had hurt her as much as any physical blow. He really didn't know which one to hope for.

She stirred, her eyelids trembling. "Raven? Raven! Wake up!" Then he thought, maybe she _shouldn't_ wake up yet. It didn't seem like she was recovered enough.

But _something_ was clearly pushing her back into the world of the living. "Gar-Garf-field." Her voice was barely a whisper, and, even with his inhumanly keen hearing, he could barely make it out. "Garfield. Don't…don't fight him. D-don't."

"Don't fight who, Raven? Who is it?" He could feel the ship's shuddering as whoever was at the controls changed course abruptly. "Who are you talking about?"

"The…the dark…the dark…" Here, her voice slipped into a whisper even he couldn't make out. "…D-don't fight him. You, you can't." It seemed like she was sinking back into her trance, but fighting it at the same time. "Go…small. Cy…borg…" She whispered something else, something with two syllables, and then she was out again, and unresponsive.

"Oh, dear," said C3PO, standing by, looking on with worried optics. "What, what do you suppose she could have meant?"

"I don't know," said Garfield. "Go small? And something about Cyborg?" Something about the two subjects seemed to form a link in his brain, something…but such was his worry for the sorceress that he couldn't connect the two. Something about small and Cyborg? He shook his head, trying to clear it.

….

"Okay," muttered Han, staring at the viewscreen. "I'm seeing it, but I'm not believing it."

" _*You better believe it!*"_

"Don't _yell_ at me! I've still got a headache!" He turned to Cyborg, angrily. "And you were gonna tell me about this thing exactly _when?_ "

"Actually, we _weren't_ gonna tell you at all! We didn't think we'd need to! We intended to get here BEFORE the damned thing got here! Why do you think we needed a fast ship and a pilot who wouldn't ask too many questions?"

Han turned his attention back to the viewscreen. It was showing a rapidly enlarging round orb, gunmetal gray, with a huge concave dish built into one side. "So _that's_ this Battlestation? I can see why everybody's so worried. Where'd the Empire get the raw _materials_ for that kinda thing? It must'a taken the mass of a couple of small planets to forge all that!"

Robin thought, chewing his lip. "Too much is unknown. This would be a good time for a tactical retreat. But since that seems to be an impossibility…" He looked at Han. "What about playing possum?"

"What's a possum?"

"Playing dead. Let them draw us in, since we can't seem to stop it."

"Kid, do you _wanna_ get shot? They're not invitin' us to dinner!"

"Is there some way we could hide? Us, I mean. Not the ship."

Han thought. Ben looked on, then spoke up. "Young Master Robin may have a point. If we can't get away, we must meet them on better terms than they have in mind for us. That will require subterfuge."

"Well," said Han, slowly, "We _do_ have some…storage compartments that, _ahem_ , aren't exactly listed on the ship's blueprints…"

Sickbay: Robin stuck his head in. "C'mon, Beast Boy. We gotta get ourselves hid before we get drawn in."

"What about Raven?"

"Bring her. According to what Han says, we'll barely be able to fit all of us in."

"Okay." And he gently picked Raven's body up, and carried her to the cargo hold. "Wait. What about the droids?"

Robin smirked. "Got an idea about them."

The small craft was drawn towards the massive Battlestation. A cargo door the size of a small lake opened up, revealing an enormous hanger. Quite gently, the tractor beam drew in the _Millennium Falcon_ and deposited it on a vacant spot in the bay. _"C'mon, move it, move it!"_ said the squad leader's voice over the comm frequencies, _"We gotta search this thing and bring in those rebels. And be on the lookout for two droids, one, an R2 unit, and the other a protocol droid. The R2 unit is_ _not_ _to be harmed. The other one, we got no orders on, but better safe than sorry."_ And the detail moved quickly to obey.

The opened up the ship's main hatches—it was easy for Imperial technology to override the entry codes—and trooped in. One by one they called off. _"Nothing here." "We're not finding anything."_

" _Do you see any indication there was anybody on board?"_

" _Some signs. Food and stuff. And it looks like somebody might've been in sickbay; there's a couple of minor items put out."_

" _Any signs of injury? Bloodstains?"_

" _Negative."_

"Lord Vader won't be happy about that," muttered the sergeant. Darth Vader himself had insisted on a thorough search, and Darth Vader's definition of a "thorough search" was a few microns smaller than that provided by a meson microscope. The squad leader touched his communicator. "Sir? Lord Vader? We've completed our sweep. There's no signs of anyone on board. And we looked for the two droids; negative there, too."

There was a pause, while the sergeant sweated, listening to the sounds of Darth Vader's respirator coming over the comm. _"You are sure you looked everywhere?"_

"Yes, sir. We even took soundings, looking for hidden panels, compartments. But there weren't any."

" _And no sign of the droids?"_

"No, sir. There were two escape pods missing, but they couldn't have all fit into those."

More breathing sounds. Then, _"I will order a sensor sweep of the area for the pods. Meanwhile, keep a guard detail on that ship, sergeant. There is something about it…I sense something. It is not quite the derelict it appears to be."_

"Aye, sir. I have two squads watching it at all times."

" _See that you do. And, sergeant…"_ The sergeant sweated a little more; there was an understated _threat_ to Lord Vader's tone, though he couldn't imagine what it could be about. He and his men had done everything they could. _"See that your men keep a close eye on that ship. Conduct a sweep periodically, at random intervals."_ And Darth Vader cut the communication, much to the sergeant's relief. He knew the Dark Lord was on their side, but sometimes, the old adage, "with friends like these," popped into his mind. "Alright," he turned to the squadron leaders, "you heard the man. I want two details watching this ship at all times, rotate off and on. This thing didn't fly itself here, and, from what you said, it looks like somebody was hurt or injured. They didn't just disappear. So be on your guard."

The guards had just exited the ship when a carefully concealed hatchway cracked open, and Han stuck his head up. "Coast is clear…for now." He turned to Cyborg. "How'd you do that? I thought when they took those soundings, we were goners."

"Just a little applied technology. I've been working with sound and sonics for quite a long time now, so I know how to block 'em." He turned to the others. "Everybody okay?"

"Yeah." They all counted off, breathing sighs of relief.

"Careful," quipped Han. "The hull can only take so much."

Garfield carefully brought Raven out of the cramped enclosure. Robin noticed the tenderness with which he carried her, and he had little doubt the changeling would have laid down his life for the sorceress, had it come to that. _I hope it won't,_ he thought. He wondered if anyone else had noticed that. Hell, he wondered if _Beast Boy_ had noticed that. "Okay, now what? We don't have long until they make another inspection."

"Let me see what I can do," spoke up Ben. "I know a thing or two about machines like this, and…let's just say I have certain advantages over our foes. But we'll need to get the droids out of the reaction tubes." It had been Robin's idea to hide the droids, who didn't require any life support, in the quiescent reaction tubes. The airlessness in there, and latent radiation, wouldn't inconvenience them.

"I'll go get them out. Cy, you're with me." The two cautiously made their way to the reaction tubes, with Cyborg's sensors at full alert for any sign of intrusion, and opened the panels that led to the tubes. "Say, Rob," Victor spoke up, "Been meaning to ask you: how come you were so ready to leave Tatooine? I mean, I would'a thought you'd still be there, huntin' for Star."

"That's just the point, Vic." He hoisted a beeping and booping R2 out of the tube, followed by a complaining C3PO. "I'd come to the conclusion Star wasn't there. I'd heard some things. Things about the Empire encountering a super-powered alien female. From the description, it wasn't too hard to guess who it was." His eyes took on a far-away look, completely ignoring 3PO's steady stream of complaints about his cramped gears and the need to stretch them. "I'd done some searching on Tatooine, but then when all of the rest of you showed up, and there was still no sign of her, it sorta added up."

"How?"

"Think, Vic. Of us all, Starfire's the only one from another world. True, Raven's not from Earth, but she's from a parallel universe immediately adjacent to Earth. So," he shrugged, "close enough. But Star…I'm guessing there must have been some sort of, of _affinity_ in whatever process teleported us. You, for example, got sent to an area where there were beings that dealt primarily with machines. Yeah, I know, not the way you'd _like_ to be dealt with, but machines, anyway. Beast Boy got sent to a farm, basically. An open air place similar to the sort where they deal with animals, even though the Lars' didn't, themselves." His brow furrowed, slightly, as he thought about the fate of the kindly couple that had done so much to help his friends. Some payback was called for, there. "And Raven ended up under the attention of someone with supernatural abilities. And me: inner city, crime ridden area with lots of guys who needed a serious butt kicking. It was like we were all transported to places where we, well, sorta _fit,_ so to speak. So it all added up, see? Now, Star…." They made their way up front with the droids bringing up the rear. R2 had been keeping his beepings and squawks to a minimum, since they could be heard over a greater distance than a softened human voice. "Star…not from this planet. Earth, I mean. She's from a planet at war, where they train warriors. So where would she be most likely to wind up?" He answered his own question before Victor could. "She'd wind up right in the thick of things, the place where she was most needed. The center of the conflict. Or if not the center, close to it.

"And then I heard about this Battlestation. Scuttlebutt from the troops. A few beers'll do that to even the tightest tongues. 'Specially when you spice up their drink with a little something they didn't exactly pay for or know about. Anyway, this station's supposed to be the hub of the Empire's big plans. If Starfire's anywhere in this crazy universe, it's here." He frowned. "I almost hope she's not, though. Not only is Star a bit hot-headed, she's also a trifle accident prone, and the level of tech here is high enough that…she could be…hurt." _Or worse,_ he thought to himself.

…

Koriand'r, Princess Starfire of Tameran, flew through the darkened corridors of the battle station, the "Death Star," as the trooper, Corl Vanderk, had called it. She smiled as she remembered him. He was actually a very sweet man. Were she not already involved with another…

She hoped he'd be able to rejoin his unit, without being found out. But she had a hunch he wasn't long for the military service, anyway…he just didn't have what it took to be a true warrior. _Do not worry about him,_ she told herself, _you have enough to concern yourself with._

But…she made herself a vow: once she did what she came here for, if she still lived, if any of them still lived, she would come back for him. He did not belong here, with these bad men.

She feared he would become like them.

Starfire had been trained as a frontline warrior, but that didn't mean she knew nothing about covert actions, at least to a degree. Plus, her time with the Titans—one Titan in particular—had served to give her skills many Tameranean warriors did not have.

Down this corridor, up the next, keeping to the ceiling as much as possible, being careful around corners, or wherever there was a suspicious-looking blister that might hide a cam. These particular conduits he'd pointed out to her were seldom traveled, and thus the lighting in them was usually kept to a minimum. After all, anything the size of this "Death Star" consumed a great deal of power, and, in those areas where it was not needed, it was not used. He'd also told her the same held true for the security cameras. These particular passageways really didn't lead anywhere important, so cam presence was also kept mostly off, unless needed. And down these corridors were the holding cells were the Princess Leia was being held.

But Starfire had no intention of springing the Princess, not just yet.

These same corridors also led to the hanger bays, as he'd shown her. And in those hangers were many craft, shuttles and fighter craft.

It would not be difficult for someone with her training to rig one or more of them to explode.

So, her head occupied with plans of sabotage, Princess Starfire could perhaps be forgiven if she did not notice the figure in the shadows, watching her.

…

The next squad was scheduled to go through, and made another sweep. Soon they emerged, the leader tapping the side of his head. "What, don't tell me those comm units went out again?" The captain of the guard made an exasperated sound. _Damn stupid cheap things._ _The purchasing officer oughtta be fragged._ He turned to a trooper. "Get down there and see what the problem is."

Ben had very carefully sneaked out from the _Falcon_ , and headed towards the main engines. The tractor beam generator, while not being located directly there, would be somewhere in that vicinity. His own Jedi abilities enabled him to avoid detection by the troopers, most of whom were already convinced that the ship was, inexplicably, derelict. He hoped that Cyborg's boosted holographic camouflage would enable the others to exit the ship before the next sweep.

He was acutely conscious that he had to remain hidden from one particular mind. So conscious of it, in fact, that he completely forgot about the other, the one both he and Raven had sensed, following them.

…..

Corl Vanderk was just coming from the auxiliary control room, after seeing Starfire off. He hoped she'd make it. He'd given her hardcopies of the layout of the Battlestation, and, while they weren't anywhere near to being full blueprints, they should serve to get her where she needed to go. He only hoped she'd head straight for there, after freeing the Princess.

But while he was down here…he'd told her the giant alien sphere, where the Empire drew the exotic particles from, that made the superlaser so incredibly lethal, was just about invulnerable. And that was true…but there had to be some mechanism for siphoning whatever it generated _out._ If he could find it, and maybe set it to bleed off…it might seriously reduce or even destroy the power of the laser. And said mechanism had to be somewhere around here, level 4DC. If he could just find it…

So engrossed was he, that he taken completely by surprise by an incredibly strong arm that wrapped itself around his neck from behind, hauling him into a shadowed alcove. A single kick knocked his weapon away. "One wrong move," snarled a voice in his ear, "and I'll snap your stinking Imperial neck."

 _To be continued…_


	10. Chapter 10: Haunted

Teen Titans / Star Wars crossover: A Galaxy Far, Far Away

Chapter 10: Haunted

…..

 _I don't own either the Teen Titans or the Star Wars franchise, of course. I doubt anyone really thought I did, but you know._

 _I'd like to thank my collaborator for his untiring help in guiding me through the twisting mazes of the Star Wars universe. His knowledge is truly exceptional. We've had our disagreements—all people do—and I've begged and pleaded and threatened to hold my breath until I turned blue about the inclusion of certain scenes he had doubts about. So, anything you see that looks much amiss, or doesn't add up in some way, it's probably my fault. I accept full responsibility._

…

Chapter 10: Haunted

"It was, of course, a false lead." Tarkin controlled his voice very carefully. "An abandoned base."

"Of course it was."

"You knew?"

"I suspected. If our enhanced interrogation techniques failed to unlock her secrets, I doubt that anything would have." The ebony mask turned towards Tarkin. "Even as you suspected, Governor. The destruction of a heavily armed rebel base by this battlestation _would_ have been a better example, no matter how far off the normal lanes it was."

Tarkin narrowed his eyes at the Dark Lord. "And you shared none of this with the rest of us? None of your suspicions? Your reticence borders on sedition, Lord Vader."

There was the briefest of pauses. Then Darth Vader spoke up again, his night-mirrored eye ports never leaving the Governor's face. "The Emperor has made it clear that I am to be under orders from you, governor. However, one thing I will emphasize: you are _not_ my Master."

…..

Grand Moff Tarkin was just about ready to turn in. It had, overall, been a good day, even if his patience had been sorely tried by the Sith Lord.

They'd destroyed one rebel planet, and he had no doubt they'd find the rebel base they sought. The mystery of the seeming derelict didn't even register on his personal radar. Let the officers in charge of that handle that. That was their job; he had weightier chores.

So he retired that night (or, more accurately, the arbitrary time allotted as "night," there being no night on any such deep space ship or station) after a few sips from a particularly pleasant bottle of _vino_. It was always amazing how it helped relax him.

There was some sort of commotion from outside. It sounded like the guards were scuffling.

 _Frag_ it! They _knew_ he hated commotion, especially when he was about to retire! There'd be some serious demotions for the idiots involved.

It never occurred to him that there might be danger. After all, he was right in the middle of the most powerful battle station ever created. Security was probably tighter here than at the Emperor's own palace.

He shot the door open. "What is the meaning of this? What's going on…" And his eyes widened as he took in the scene: the orange skinned girl, as tall as himself, standing over the fallen guards. She wasn't holding a weapon, but…something about her expression sent a chill through him. There was a sheen to her eyes that didn't look totally sane.

"What is going on?" she repeated, with a slight giggle. "You are the dying, that is what is going on." The last thing Grand Moff Tarkin saw was her hand gripping his throat, an inhumanly tight grip, which easily lifted him off the floor.

One more giggle, and pain and darkness claimed him.

….

Earlier, on the Millennium Falcon: "We can't take Raven. Beast Boy, you'll have to stay here with her. Cyborg, can you install your sounder-blockers in that main hidden compartment?"

"I think so. Of course, if I'm not here, I can't completely guarantee it'll work properly. If they use some frequency the blocker isn't programmed for…"

"It'll have to do. Now, the rest of us: Cyborg, we'll need you to interface with-*" He was interrupted by a series of bleeps and boops from R2 D2. "What's he saying?"

Before Cyborg could answer, C3PO spoke up. "He is saying that he could probably interface with the computer system here more easily than Master Cyborg, Master Robin. He is more familiar with the programming format." As always, he spoke deferentially to the humans.

"Well…I'm not sure. Aren't they looking for you two?"

"I have gathered that they are. But there are many R2 units on this station—his is a standard-seeming model—and unless someone examines his registration number, he could easily pass as one of them. I might have a harder time…protocol droids are likely to be fewer in number here, and my coloration may work against me. However, I am willing to risk it for R2. Er, I mean, after all, I can translate for him. That would free up Master Cyborg for what is, I am sure, any martial maneuvers that will result in our complete and total destruction." He saw their looks. "It is better than staying here and awaiting the inevitable blaster bolt."

Cyborg turned to Robin. "Told you he was a ray of sunshine."

….

Corl Vanderk found himself dragged back into the same utility room he'd just come from. The strange man—a dark haired, dark eyed man whose face alone scared Vanderk almost as much as Lord Vader—hauled him back with one arm. That face seemed to be carved from solid stone, yet it reflected an internal volcanic fury. The man waved a hand, and Vanderk found himself up against the wall, held by an invisible force. The stranger produced a large-bored tube resembling a flashlight…and to Vanderk's horror, pressed a switch, activating a red-beamed lightsaber. "Okay, you've got two options here. You answer my questions truthfully—and I'll know if you're lying or not—and you _might_ live. Anything else, you die. Clear?"

" _Urk_." The force—the _Force_ , he recognized-holding him was tight. "Uh, y-yes. I, uh, got it." He didn't know who this was, but he was obviously a Force-user. But if he was affiliated with Lord Vader, why was he sneaking around down here?

"What were you doing in here? And who was that girl?"

"Uh…" Should he answer these questions? He wasn't sure. "Uh, I…that is…could I ask who you are?"

"I'm the one asking questions here, that's who. You're the one answering them. Now that we've cleared _that_ up…" And the force holding him tightened.

Vanderk faced a huge dilemma. If this man was working for the Empire—perhaps a covert agent-he couldn't just spill his guts. That would make everything he'd done all for naught.

On the other hand, how much of a covert agent could he be, running around down here, using the Force, and brandishing a lightsaber? That sort of thing would be hard to hide. So he had to be new, a new factor in this mix. "Uhm…"

"Hesitation's gonna cost you, kid." The man's predatory eyes narrowed. "I'm not here for the Empire. I can tell that's what you're thinking." The man smirked, but there was little humor in his voice. "Of course, that's exactly what I'd say if I was, so I guess you can't go by that." He raised the lightsaber. "But what you _can_ go by is this: if _you_ don't spill your guts, _I will_. So…your choice."

"I…that was a prisoner. I…was trying to help her and the Princess escape."

"'Her and the Princess'? What Princess?"

"Urk…the Princess Leia Organa. She's being held in the confinement cells."

"Leia Organa? How'd she get mixed up in this?"

"I, I don't know the details. Only that they've been trying to get information on the rebels from her."

The man considered a moment. "Figures. But how'd they get her?" This last was said in a reflective tone, not a real question.

But Vanderk answered it anyway. Why not? Somehow he knew this guy wasn't working for Vader or the Empire. "She was on a courier ship. They got wind of her plan to get the schematics for the battle station to the rebels."

"She has those?"

"I don't know. Rumor has it she put 'em in some droid and shot it off into space. That's really all I know."

Again, the man's eyes narrowed dangerously. "So you helped a prisoner escape? What'd she do? Give you a really good fuck?"

"NO! I mean, no! I, I just…I mean, it was wrong, I felt. They were gonna kill her when she was down. I, I just didn't want…"

Galen Marek grinned inside. This young man's vehement response told him more than the trooper had intended. "So…you turned traitor?"

"I guess I have. At least about that." He shuddered when he remembered the vids of the destruction of Alderaan.

And…he remembered Irima Solstice's crying. Crying over her lost family.

Nobody should be forced to witness a thing like that.

The strange man looked at him, looked deeply into his eyes. Vanderk knew he was seeing more than just that, though. "Your reasons…seem shaky. I don't think you've fully decided either way yet. That makes you dangerous to me. I should kill you and be done with it…" His voice trailed off.

"If you're here to fight them, I…know a few things you may not." Vanderk knew he was trying to bargain for his life…if the man figured he had no use for him… "Like how we shouldn't stay long in this area."

"Why's that?"

"This is 4DC. The 'DC' part stands for 'Death Central.' Things happen down here; equipment failures, people get sick, accidents…"

"And why's that?" Vanderk could see the man's eyes widen almost imperceptibly. He _hadn't_ known about the infamous deck. He _must_ be a recent arrival.

Vanderk shook his head slightly. Even without his helmet, with the Force holding him against the wall, it was about all he could manage. "Nobody knows, or, if they do know, I don't know. Just…that things happen. Some engineer told me once it had something to do with the power generation down here." And he gestured with his head at the door, which, though closed, opened up to show the bottom portion of the alien spheroid around which the Death Star had been constructed. "She thought it maybe affected probability, somehow." He couldn't shrug much, what with his armor, except for his helmet, on, but he tried.

"Hm. You're not just saying that, either, I can tell. Well…you _do_ know a few things, maybe. But do you know enough? And just what _is_ your stance with the Empire, anyway?"

"Well, I've already committed two acts of treason. I guess if I were to tell my superiors about you, I'd have to explain what _I_ was doing down here. That could get…awkward, to say the least."

"So," said the strange man, "you're sayin' you're ready to throw in with me?"

"That— _urk!_ —depends."

"On?" Hm. Most prisoners would not hesitate to say yes, to get on their captor's good side, whether they really were or not. So this was most unusual behavior, indeed.

"Are you with the rebels?"

Galen Marek tilted his head at him. "Why is that important?"

"Because Starfire already asked me to join her rebellion. I told her no."

"Why?"

"I swore an oath-*"

"Oh, don't tell me you're _that_ naïve. People change oaths like clothes. So try again."

"I, I meant it. I won't betray my oath, my family."

"Your family?"

"My…father. Fought as a midshipman on the _Victory._ My grandmother served on board the _Pinnacle._ And my great-grandfather was on board the _Viceroy._ "

"Huh. So. Military brat, huh? Guess I can see why you wouldn't wanna turn. But that only means I've no use for you alive, and a lotta uses for you dead."

Vanderk's own temper began to flare. He glared at the Force-user. "Then quit screwing around and do it, already. Kill me or let me go. I need to pee. You know how hard it is to get that stink outta these suits?"

The strange man looked at him for a long, long moment, and Vanderk was sure he'd bring that lightsaber up and through his chest. But the man began to chuckle, then to laugh. _He reminds me of me,_ thought Marek. "Kid, I'm probably gonna regret this…" And the invisible force holding Vanderk to the wall vanished. "Scamper on back to your unit. And if you should happen across 'Lord Vader,'" he paused, while Vanderk held his breath. What could be possibly be about to say? "Tell him…an old 'friend' of his is here. Tell him Starkiller is here. He'll know who you're talking about." A wolfish grin. "He'll know why I'm here, too."

….

Ben slipped cautiously into the very guts of the battleship. He had some idea, even though there were large gaps in his knowledge. Plus, he was working under the constraints of having to hide his presence from someone who very probably had already sensed him, and would be on his guard. That person, he knew, was intelligent enough to know that someone was most likely to be exactly where he was, and for the very reason he was.

He knew his padawan had changed since he'd last seen him. What he didn't know, what he couldn't know, was how he'd changed, and to what degree he'd changed. He was, without a doubt, stronger now than when they parted company, but in what ways? And to what degree?

Avoiding the increased patrols was the easy part, and, he knew, due to the more sensitive nature of this area, security cams were more likely to be in greater concentration here than in others. After all, there were only a few ways to get to the machines that were deemed most important, such as the one that fed power to the tractor beam.

It wasn't as though he could throw a line across a gap and swing across, after all.

….

Within the guts of the battle station: Robin and the others were conferring as to the best course of action. So far they'd managed to avoid any patrols, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time. While the humans could pass as stormtroopers, Chewbacca definitely couldn't. "We need more info. Can R2 interface with their computer system?" In Ben's absence, Robin had, quite naturally, taken charge. Somehow, Luke couldn't picture him any other way, and he had a hunch _Robin_ couldn't picture himself any other way, either.

"Oh, most certainly, Master Robin. Oh, and I should tell you: R2 can understand you when you speak. He has merely never been fitted with any sort of speaker gear, hence my need to translate for him. That, after all, is my function, primarily."

"Oh. Hm, you know, don't take this the wrong way, er, R2, but it seems kinda inefficient, that you can understand but not speak." R2 responded with a series of beeps and boops that, to Robin's ear, sounded a bit sarcastic.

C3PO inclined his head towards R2 a moment. "Oh, come on, R2, he was only making an observation. I'm sure Master Robin didn't mean it in any disparaging way. Yes, we _know_ you didn't build yourself, that's self-evident…"

"Uhm, look, never mind. R2, sorry if I gave offense." They didn't have time to get into any arguments. He was still getting used to the notion of _intelligent robots_. Especially robots with, apparently, _actual feelings_. "First thing we need is to find where prisoners are most likely to be held…"

"You mean, _you_ need to find where prisoners are held," snorted Han. " _My_ only concern is getting my ship loose. You can do whatever you want, but-*"

"C'mon, Han," urged Luke, "We need to free this princess." Robin held up two fingers. "Yeah, these two princesses. Don't you think there'd be a reward for freeing up an important person like her?" His powers of persuasion, thought Robin, could probably use a little work.

"Rewards aren't much good if you're dead, kid." But Han was thinking. It _was_ quite possible that the rebels would be…extremely grateful for the return of one of their most valued members. Also, there was another factor to consider: while the Empire was pretty free with the blaster bolts, they were less likely to unleash deadly fire upon a ship carrying someone they wanted alive. No, they'd be more likely to attempt a boarding situation, and Han had no doubt but that, if they could just get free of the tractor beam, and just a little bit of a head start, the _Millennium Falcon_ could easily outfly anything the Empire had. Fighters were fast, but that was only in the short term. Give the _Falcon_ just a little time to get up to speed… He looked at Chewbacca. "How about it, Chewie? You wanna make like the shining hero?" Chewbacca responded with a series of low-pitched growls; he was being careful not to let his voice carry. "Yeah, I know these stolen suits won't fool people for long." They'd only managed to get enough suits for Han, Robin, and Luke; Cyborg was using his holographic technology to camouflage himself.

"R2? Can you tell if there's any place where you could plug in?"

R2 responded with a series of tired sounding boops and squeals. "Now, R2," sighed C3PO, "You don't need to talk that way. Master Robin is simply unfamiliar with Imperial technology. That shouldn't surprise you; after all, the workings of such a battle station as this is hardly public knowledge." To Robin, "He says there's no suitable access port here. We'd have to get into a major command center to learn anything of any importance. But wait…" C3PO seemed startled, "Wait. R2, aren't there charging ports for these suits? The soldiers who wore them would clearly need almost constant updates, wouldn't they?" He gestured at the ports on Robin's suit. "Perhaps they would be less defended."

R2 gave out a series of sounds that sounded, to Luke's more trained ears, a little derisive. C3PO let out a very human sounding sigh. "Well, it was a thought." He turned to the humans. "He says that would be a bad idea. Anyone in such an area would be soldiers, and armed, of course." R2 made a few more squeaks that sounded like laughter. "You needn't find it so amusing! I've never been programmed for such as this! And, _unlike some droids I could point to_ , I'm at least _trying_ to help, rather than standing there laughing!"

"Okay, then, command center of some sort." Robin was acutely aware that, whatever they were going to do, they couldn't stand around arguing about. That would be sure to arouse suspicion. Off the beaten path they might be, but it was still a path. Sooner or later, somebody would come along. "Where's the closest one?"

"I can answer that," said Cyborg. "All I have to do is trace these power lines. Wherever it is probably draws more juice." So saying, he extended a small sensor mounted on his left shoulder. He had to pause a moment while his camouflage system compensated for it. He turned about as though he were using a dowsing rod, finally pointed to their left. "Down that way."

"Okay, genius," said Han. "How do we actually _get_ there? These corridors are straight…and I can't see one that goes in that direction."

"Well, there's got to be a way there. After all, these Imperials of yours got there, didn't they?"

"They're not _my_ Imperials, metal face…"

But as they argued, Robin struck a listening pose. "Wait. Guys, do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Cyborg and Han both had been engrossed in their argument.

Robin seemed troubled. "I could have sworn…I could have sworn I heard somebody singing."

….

Private First Class Corl Vanderk reported to his duty station. "And just where the frag have you been, all this time?" said the duty officer. "Do you know how many troopers are out there looking for you?" Actually, there weren't any, aside from a small detail assigned to find his remains. Everyone had assumed he'd been a casualty in the explosion of the cooling vent.

"I, uh, got, er…well, to be honest, sir, I got lost on 4DC."

The duty sergeant shuddered visibly. There were rumors about…things happening on 4DC. "Of all the places to get lost, you hadda go and pick there? You know that place is haunted." He shuddered again. "Okay. I'll let your CO know you're back. Now get on back there."

…..

The Council convened at Darth Vader's request. "My Lord Vader. Where is the governor? When will he be joining us?"

"Never," rumbled the dark lord, standing over by one wall. Nobody there had any doubt but that his senses were not focused on the wall itself, but upon some perspective only he could see. "The governor is dead. By order of the Emperor himself, I am assuming command of this battle station. "

"WHAT?! This, this is unprecedented!"

"Precedence starts somewhere. I have my orders from Emperor Palpatine himself. Do you," he rounded on the man, the same one who, in the earlier meeting, had spoken so disparagingly of the Force, "wish to dispute the matter?"

The councilman stared at Vader. He could see his reflection in the polished eye ports…but it seemed more like the reflection of a skull than his own face. "N-no, Lord Vader. I…accept your leadership."

…..

Elsewhere: flying soundlessly through the darkened corridors, Starfire was a happy person, indeed. She'd killed the bad man, the _naughty_ man, who'd done so much harm. He was dead, very dead, yes, he was. She'd felt his neck snap beneath her fingers. The Warlords of Okaara had trained her well.

She felt so good she felt like singing a little tune she remembered her mother singing to her, when she and her sister were but babies. She frowned when she thought of her sister. Her sister had been bad, too. She'd been _naughty_ , yes, very naughty indeed. She wished her sister were here now so they could sing these songs together…and then Starfire would break _her_ neck.

She knew she should be hunting for her next target, the dark man, the powerful one. He'd caught her by surprise before, but now she knew what he could do.

Starfire of Tameran smiled a very predatory smile. Things might be a little different now.

But the thought occurred to her: perhaps a little fun might be in order before continuing on with her purification spree. Yes, that was a good idea. She would hunt up that nice young man, that _good_ young man, a spark of light in this endless darkness, who'd helped her before, and he could help her now. Together, they would sing the songs her mother had taught her, and perhaps have even more fun than that. Yes, the _naughty_ kind of fun.

But…and here, she stopped in mid-flight, an expression of confusion coming over her perfect features…if they had the naughty kind of fun with each other, would that make him a naughty man, a bad man? It would be naughty, yes, very naughty. What she had in mind would be _extremely_ naughty indeed. How could he continue to be a good man if he was naughty?

Then she shrugged and continued on her way. The solution to that quandary was simple. If they had the naughty fun together—and they would, she would see to that, most certainly—then he would no longer be a good man, but a bad one, and, upon completion of their naughty, naughty fun, she would simply break _his_ neck, too.

Simple.

….

"And just where the frag have you been hiding?" his sergeant asked Private First Class Corl Vanderk.

Vanderk straightened, his salute never wavering. "Sir, I, I got lost on 4DC. The nav unit in my armor spritzed out, and…I got turned around. I'm, I'm sorry, sir."

"'Sorry' doesn't-*"

"That will be all, sergeant," said a voice from the door. Captain Sorn entered, and the sergeant stiffened and saluted. "There's no need to belabor the matter. I'm sure Trooper Vanderk regrets his…absence sufficiently. Don't you, trooper?"

"Y-yes, sir. I-*"

"Did you see any sign of the escapee?"

"O-only what we all saw, sir. I, I've got my suit recordings, but, but after the coolant connection broke, there wasn't anything to see. I mean…it was a life or death situation, and…well, we were all scrambling to get to safety." He'd rehearsed the lie until it came easily, and he'd already "tweaked" his suit cams to match his story. That just made plain good sense.

"Very well. Come with me." And the two of them left the room, leaving a flustered sergeant standing behind them, his salute unreturned.

Down the hallway: "Uh, sir? I…" He didn't know what else to say. What was with this personal attention?

"Trooper, you were, probably, in the best place to observe the alien, before the coolant leak. Did you notice anything…unusual, about her? Perhaps…perhaps about her behavior?"

"Er…unusual in what way? I mean, ub, unusual in what way, sir?" After all, he had to maintain protocol. A proper Imperial trooper always did.

They came to a small room with a desk and chair. Sorn waved Vanderk into the chair, and took the one behind the desk himself. Vanderk squirmed uneasily, both due to the uncomfortableness of his suit and the attention he was getting from his superior. "What I'm about to tell you is top secret. Nobody but the Council and a few officers have been informed of it yet, though it will become common knowledge shortly. Governor Tarkin has been killed. Slain, just outside the door to his quarters. His guards were likewise killed. All of this was done by someone with incredible strength, superhuman strength; there's no evidence of any sort of weapon used.

"And whoever did it—and I think it's a given just who that is, don't you?—has been expertly trained in hand to hand combat, not to mention infiltration tactics. Before this, there had been reports on several decks of stolen suits, malfunctioning machinery, and general vandalism. But this last attack…" he paused, "I mentioned hand to hand, but a couple of the guards were literally torn apart, _broken_ , in a manner not consistent with any style of infighting we've ever seen." He narrowed his gaze at the young man. "Did the alien you saw—if your suit's cam is accurate, you probably had the best view—did that alien seem capable of such?"

Vanderk was floored. Starfire? Killed Governor Tarkin? Well, really, he could see it, but…the guards? He guessed he couldn't expect her to handle them with tenderness…but, the way Captain Sorn described it, it seemed…somehow it seemed more vicious, almost like deliberate murder.

He wondered if he'd known any of those guards. Had he and one or more of them gone on shore leave together? Maybe shared a few drinks?

But how could he blame her? She was, after all, a rebel agent on an Imperial ship…what was she supposed to do? Send them flowers? But this… _torn_ _apart_? _Starfire_? "Sir, I'm not sure what you mean by 'unusual.' The, the alien was, well, _alien_ , I mean. I mean, she flew, she ripped steel girders with her bare hands. She certainly _could_ kill like that. Is that what you mean?"

Sorn leaned back, scratching his neck. "Not exactly. Understand, there's a difference between fighting in a battle, and straight up assassination. And this. This seems to be more of the latter...but carried to an almost _feral_ degree. We don't have just an enemy agent on board; we've got an _assassin_. An evidently well-trained one, too. At least, I'd prefer to think it was an assassin, and not some…thing.

"I guess what I'm asking you is, do you think the…alien…is capable of such cold-blooded viciousness?" And suddenly, Cork Vanderk understood.

Captain Sorn knew, or intuited, perhaps, that he, Imperial Stormtrooper Private First Class Corl Vanderk, had had a hand—perhaps a very personal hand-in the escape of the alien. He might not have any proof, but his intuition was telling him that the young man in front of him was responsible for the alien still being at large. He _knew_ this…but without proof.

And he was trying, in his own way, to contain the matter _without_ getting that proof.

So he was asking, as one Imperial soldier to another, perhaps even as one man to another, if Corl Vanderk had any information that might prevent these deaths, these _assassinations_ …and any more to come.

It was one thing to rip up steel girders and throw them at the enemy. It was another to sneak up on people, and, by sheer strength, rip them apart, no matter what the circumstances. Was Starfire capable of that?

He remembered that laugh, that peck on the forehead she'd given him. All so…innocent seeming. Yeah, he'd known she was an enemy, but this _just didn't seem_ _in character_ , dammit!

Unless he'd hideously misjudged her.

Or, unless…

4DC…

"… _Things happen down here; equipment failures, people get sick, accidents…"_

"… _people get sick…"_

 _Starfire, just how long were you down there on 4DC, anyway?_

Aloud: "Sir, I…understand…" He spread his hands in what he hoped looked like an honest gesture, "I…didn't get that good a look at the…creature, but…to the best of my knowledge, I…would have thought that, had that been her way, she would have taken us all out, one by one, picked us off. I mean, I mean, she would've had ample opportunity, what with those darkened corridors, and 4DC ready to scramble our suits and weapons. She _had_ been hiding from us there. But instead, it seemed like she fought us as any enemy soldier would, frontline style, taking us all on, single-handedly. I guess what I'm saying is, I saw no indication that she was, was an assassin, as such. She didn't _act_ the way I'd expect an assassin to act like. But I can't swear, on that basis, that she wasn't." _Starfire, could you really do that?_

 _Did you?_

"Tell me, young man," said Sorn "Were you to be in the same predicament as she obviously is, how would you respond?"

"Guerrilla warfare, sir" he said, unhesitatingly. He'd been well trained by the Academy for just that sort of thing, just as his classmates and fellow graduates had. "Take out the communications and transport systems first, isolate them from any aid, which would also result in their demoralization, then focus on passive defenses, so they would be vulnerable to outside attack. Then I'd concentrate on heavy armor, with small arms and troops last."

"But no assassinations?"

"Too risky, sir. At least, not with communications and artillery still in place. Assassinations _would_ demoralize the enemy, sir, but, since I presumably would have limited manpower, I couldn't afford to lose anyone, or take on high-security personnel where I or someone in my group might be captured and interrogated. Sir, were it me, sir, given this particular situation, I'd attempt to sabotage the battle station's propulsion mechanism."

"You would? Why?"

"Weapons are too well defended, but a mobile battle station stranded between the stars, in interstellar space, wouldn't be much threat to the rebels, and I'm assuming she is one. Or an agent of theirs, at least. They could then pick us off at their leisure. Uh, sir, I mean, sir." _C'mon, Starfire, I'm going out on some really thin ice here._

 _Please don't make me regret it._

"Hm. I see," said Sorn, his eyes very narrow. Suddenly, he leaned forward across the desk, closing the gap between them by half. "You know," he said, in a voice so low as to almost be a whisper (and, Vanderk suddenly realized, too low to be picked up by any listening devices which might be present), "you wouldn't be the first young man to… _misjudge…_ someone based on their… _appearance_. It's no crime to make mistakes—not yet, anyway—but it _is_ a crime not to learn from them." Vanderk's gulp wasn't quite audible. After a moment in which Sorn _very carefully_ watched him, the captain leaned back into his chair. Vanderk thought his normal stern expression had a hint of the sorrowful in it. Vanderk hated that. To him, Captain Sorn exemplified the ideals of the Service he served, and he could think of no better role model. "Well, then, if you've nothing else to add," he continued in his normal tone of voice, "I guess we'll have to go with that. I've reviewed the recordings your suit made. Perhaps I'll need to get with you later, discuss some particulars.

"That will be all, Trooper. Return to your squad."

….

The _Millennium Falcon_ : deep within the innermost confines of the secret compartment, Beast Boy watched over Raven, and fretted. She'd been in this healing trance a long time now. He didn't really know how long it would take her to heal, or whatever it was she was do-* "G-Garfield?"

"Rae? _Rae!_ You're awake!"

Raven sat up, as best as she could in the confined quarters. "Yes, I…seem to be." She put a hand to her head. "What happened?"

"That's what I'd like to know. All of a sudden, you just keeled over. Rae, are you alright?"

She rubbed the back of her head. "I…am honestly not sure how to answer that, Garfield. Physically, I am well. But…" She winced. "I have never felt such a psychic wave of agony such as I experienced, not since the destruction of Azarath itself. I…do not _feel_ my father's presence…but in a strange way, I sense a presence similar to his." She paused a moment, while he digested that. A presence similar to Trigon the Terrible's? That couldn't be mistaken for good if you put whipped cream and a cherry on it. "Where are we?"

"We're still on board Han's ship, the _Millennium Falcon_. Right now, we're the only ones here. We're in a secret compartment Han uses to smuggle in spices. The others are out trying to get us free. We got pulled in by one monster of a tractor beam. "

"Where is Ben? And Luke?"

"Out. Ben said something about finding the tractor beam mechanism, and Robin and the rest went to see what they could do. Robin's convinced Starfire's here somewhere; naturally, he's trying to find her, and Luke's trying to free some princess who's supposed to be here. Han, I don't know about. I would think he'd be with them, but…"

She suddenly sat bolt upright, as best as she could in the confined space. It had never been designed for people, just cargo. "Garfield, this is a, a focal point! What I sensed…it's here!"

 _To be continued…?_


	11. Chapter 11: Searchings and Findings

Teen Titans / Star Wars Crossover: A Galaxy Far, Far Away

Chapter 11: Searchings and Findings

…..

 _Sorry for the long hiatus, people, but you know how it goes sometimes. Sometimes, the world just gets in the way._

 _Anyway, hope you enjoy this new chapter!_

 _I don't, of course, own either the Teen Titans or the Star Wars franchises in any way. I doubt you thought I was, but had to say it._

 _Oh, and I would like to give credit to Edgar H. Sutter, for his help, and particularly to Sharnosian Empire, for her untiring enthusiasm for the story. And I'd like to thank all of you who read, and especially all of you who review. Such encouragement always helps._

…

 _By the way, the character of Darth Asmodeus was created by Sharnosian Empire, and is entirely her own idea. Check out her stories!_

… _.._

Chapter 11: Searchings and Findings

Ben Kenobi, or Obi-Wan, as he'd been known in a previous stage of his life, had found the mechanism he sought. Unfortunately, it wasn't unmanned.

There were two stormtroopers stationed too far apart for him to take them out simultaneously. A little subterfuge was called for. He concentrated, calling upon that strange realm that, in his life, had become almost a brother to him…

Imperial Stormtrooper Garrel was the first to notice it. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That sound."

"What sound?"

"Well, I guess that means you don't hear it. It's a low humming sound, rises and falls."

"I don't hear nuthin.'"

"I'm going to investigate."

"Our orders are to remain here."

"And watch. Like for sounds like this that don't belong here."

The other trooper sighed. "Awright, go get your death sentence from Lord Vader. See if I care."

Garrel cautiously stuck his head and gun simultaneously into the accessway-*

The other trooper waited. His suit's internal chronon ticked to 15. Garrel did not come back. _Probably taking a nap back the-*_

Obi-Wan, now unobstructed, made his way to the generator core. Now, if he could just figure out how it worked…

Corl Vanderk sighed, walking along the corridor back to his barracks. He hated lying to Sorn…and a part of him was wondering if he really should have. But no, admitting his complicity in freeing Starfire would have been an automatic death sentence, one he himself would have executed upon another soldier who'd similarly betrayed his corps. He'd couldn't blame anyone.

But he was wondering if he deserved to live.

Ever since humanity rose from the slime, there have been those called upon to defend or fight for others. Ever since the formation of recognizable fighting battalions, a system of honor had been developed. One did not betray one's corps, one's oath, not without good reason.

Had he had such good reason? Really? Or had he simply, as Starfire put it herself, "fallen for the pretty face"? If that was the case, he didn't deserve to live. The blood of Grand Moff Tarkin, whom he'd sworn to serve, was upon his head. Justice-*

Two incredibly strong hands reached out from a shadowed alcove and dragged him in before he could so much as utter a peep.

….

The Millennium Falcon: "Garfield, we have to warn them. It's not safe here, not with that presence. Something's very wrong here."

"That's gonna be difficult, Rae. I'm not sure myself where they are." He fumbled with the comm unit Ben had given them. "I hope this isn't traceable."

In another passageway: Robin's comm unit beeped softly. Just as softly, he answered it. "Yes?"

" _Rob, Rae's awake. She says we have to get away from here. Something about this place has spooked her big time."_

…

 _Elsewhere on the Death Star:_

A young man strode onto the command deck, dressed in Imperial black and grey as he stopped respectfully behind the imposing figure of Darth Vader.

"My Master," he greeted.

"Lord Asmodeus," he returned, turning to look at his Sith Apprentice.

"I sensed a disturbance in the Force upon my arrival," said the one known in this life as Darth Asmodeus.

"Indeed, it is a strange presence, mixed with a familiar one… one I have not felt since…" Vader trailed off and Asmodeus knew not to press the matter.

"It is indeed strange… dark yet not one of a Force User," Asmodeus agreed. He bowed, a short bow of respect to one's Master. "With your permission, my Master, allow me to investigate this matter. You have other concerns, now that you are in command."

"Do so, Lord Asmodeus. I grant you permission to deal with this matter. This other concern, however, this...familiar presence I sense...that is one only I can deal with."

 _Damn,_ thought Asmodeus. _I nearly had it._ He bowed again, careful to keep his emotions off his face. "I shall deal with it, My Master." He bowed again, and left.

Only when he was safely away did he allow his fury to show in his face.

….

In a shadowed alcove, Corl Vanderk found himself pressed up against a wall with no less force than he'd experienced with Galen Marek, but stemming from a very different source.

Starfire's lips were pressed up against his so tightly he could hardly breathe. "I've missed you so, my friend." she whispered, releasing him only partly.

He looked at her closely. There was a sheen to her eyes he didn't like. "Uh, Starfire? Are...are you alright?" She still hadn't let go of his arm, and her other arm was pressed up against his chest. With considerable force. He remembered Sorn saying the guards had been torn apart by something with "inhuman strength." "Starfire?"

"Please...call me Kory. We are friends, no? The best of friends." Again she kissed him, an aggressive kiss that alarmed him rather than aroused him. This was more in the order of an attack than anything else. "Let me taste you, my love…"

With an effort, he pulled away. "Look, St-I mean, Kory, you're not well. Something's wrong…"

"Indeed, something is wrong. But all is right now. I have found you again. Good man. Spark of light in this endless darkness…"

She wasn't making sense. "Star...look, there's something wrong. Let me go; I've got to help you somehow…"

'Oh, but you can, beloved. You can." She moved back a hair. "That armor looks sooo uncomfortable…" She curled her fingers into the top of his chestplate and cracked him out of the upper half with one stroke. "There. That looks soo much better." Working so swiftly that he could barely keep up, she proceeded to remove his armor, leaving him wearing just the soft undersuit all Stormtroopers wore to keep the armor from chafing. "Oh, but this must go, too." And she pushed him down on the deck, ripping at the cloth, straddling him with her naked body…

Wait. Naked body? When had that happened?

She moved against him in a most arousing way, bending over to kiss him, that spectacular hair falling to either side of their heads…

...And suddenly, her eyes rolled up into the top of her head, and she fell over and off him.

"I can't decide," said Marek, standing over him with the hypospray, "whether I just saved your life or your sweet innocence."

He got up, pushing Starfire's dead weight off him. "Probably both. There's something wrong with her. She wasn't like this before."

Marek knelt down while Vanderk tried to pull together the torn remnants of his undersuit. He checked her pupils. "Hm. Eyes dilated, and I think her heart beat seems kinda fast, but that could be normal for her. Do you know anything?"

Vanderk was trying to piece together his armor. In her frenzy, Starfire had cracked the snaps and couplings, so he had to make do. "I don't know. But she was down on 4DC for a while. Like I said, things seem to happen to people down there."

Marek shook his head. "That's too bad, kid." He pulled out his lightsaber. "I guess we have to kill her, before she wakes up."

"No! Wait!" He was frantically trying piece his armor together. "Don't kill her! I've gotta help her!"

"Kid…how? We don't even know what's wrong with her. And that hypo won't keep her under long. When she wakes up…"

"Then," said a voice from the doorway, "We must make sure she does not wake up." They both whipped around to see a young man, apparently barely out of his teens, dressed in Imperial black and gray, standing in the doorway. "Not as she was, anyway."

"Who the frag are you?" That question, from Galen Marek, worried Vanderk. If a Force user of Marek's level couldn't sense this guy…

"A friend. I asked for permission to…investigate this matter of intruders on the Emperor's Battlestation. And here you are." He glanced down at Starfire. "Some of you, anyway."

"You…you wanna help us?" Vanderk's voice was almost a squeak. Marek didn't say anything, but Vanderk noticed he kept his lightsaber ready. The stranger had not yet produced any weapons, but if he was a Force user, he might not need any.

"Yes. I am Darth Asmodeus. And I can help you…if you'll let me.

"Otherwise, I'll have to kill you."

"You mean you'll _try."_

The young man who'd identified himself as Darth Asmodeus (that was a strange name, thought Vanderk) turned a set of cold eyes on the Force user. "I don't have the time to get into a pissing contest with you. I don't give a _shit_ how strong in the Force you are, or think you are. There's no way you'll take on the entire battle station _plus_ her." He gestured to the sleeping Starfire. "Now either follow me or don't. It's really all the same to me." And he started down the corridor, his robe swishing along the floor.

Vanderk looked at Marek, who shrugged. "I don't have any better ideas, kid. But _you_ carry her."

They followed Asmodeus down into the guts of the station. "Wait," said Marek, "This is the detention area."

"Yes," replied Asmodeus with the air of one talking to a child, "This is next door to the armory. That's where they keep the force-shackles. You surely didn't think they'd be in the commissary, did you?"

"Those things didn't hold her before," spoke up Vanderk. "What makes you think they'd hold her now?"

"Because I know how to adjust them for alien biology. It's not that complicated. I imagine the troopers who initially used them simply employed the standard settings. And, of course, as you've all seen, she is anything but standard.

"They'll keep her out until we can locate her friends. You all need to get as far away from this station as you can. My Master, Darth Vader, will not hesitate to hunt you all down once he finishes with his current business."

"Your Master is Vader?" snapped Marek, drawing his lightsaber instinctively.

"Sst! Put that away before you draw attention, _idiot!_ If I was working for my Master's interests, we'd already have settled this matter in the most violent way possible." He turned to them more fully, and spoke quietly, but with great intensity. "Listen to me. You all must get away from this station if you want to live. There is a force at work here, one that has no relation to the Force we know. It's something different. Something ancient. Something powerful. Whatever it is, it is mightier than anything I have ever encountered, or even heard of. Sufficiently aroused, it is more than a match for my Master. _And_ you. _And_ me. It could rip this battle station in half.

Whether or not I can leave is yet to be decided, _but you must._ I have cast my vision into the future, and have seen that you both play a role in the upcoming events. Either that, or you will not play any role…

"…because you will be dead.

"The choice is yours."

….

"We have to find where the prisoners are being held," insisted Robin. It had been no easy task to take the command center, and, once again, the Titans had had to accommodate themselves to the new rules, which involved killed one's opponents. But, Robin reasoned, this was war, and people die in wars. It couldn't be helped. "Cy? Can you do-* But he was cut off by a series of boops and beeps from R2.

"Master Robin," began C3PO, "R2 here, says he can interface with the Imperials' computers far better, being more familiar with their format."

" _Oh!_ Of course." Robin, so accustomed to depending on his teammates, had forgotten about the little droid's ability. "Uh, well, go for it."

R2 rolled up to a port that Robin hadn't even seen, extended a plug, and jacked in.

The rush of information was dizzying, even to the droid. But he focused; he had to find out where the prisoners were being held.

More boops and beeps. "Master Robin, Master Luke? R2 is saying there is only one prisoner, and she is being held in confinement, and...oh, no."

"Oh, no? What's 'oh no'?"

"It seems she is scheduled for execution!"

Luke spoke up. "We can't let that happen!"

"And just how are you proposing to stop it, kid? Take on the entire complement of soldiers here single-handedly?"

"Not alone," he said, scrounging around amongst the fallen Imperial bodies for more blaster charges. "I'll need help."

"Yeah? And where you gonna get this help? You sure ain't lookin' at it!" Han was livid. "Once I get free, I'm outta here!"

"C'mon, Han…"

"Wait, wait," broke in Robin. "R2, can you tell who it is in the confinement cell?"

More boops and beeps from R2, this time interspersed with some squeals. "He says it's the Princess Leia Organa, Master Robin."

"And there's no trace of anyone else?"

"None, sir. Though…" He conversed with R2. "R2 says the Imperials are on the lookout for an escaped alien female. One they believe to have killed the governor, one Grand Moff Tarkin."

"An alien female," mused Robin, "that's gotta be Kory. But killed this Tarkin guy? Well, she _is_ trained as a warrior, and she surely knows this to be a war. That's gotta be her. Any info on her?"

"Nothing. Only that she was cornered on something called 4DC, and apparently seriously wounded, but not apprehended, for some reason that doesn't appear to have been cataloged."

Robin's concern spiked. Kory, wounded? That was his worst fear. The level of tech here could definitely do that.

….

Ben Kenobi, or, as he was known in another life, Obi Wan Kenobi, had completed his mission. The tractor beam mechanism was properly sabotaged. It would still work-for now. But in just a few moments…

He made his way back to the Millennium Falcon. But partway there, he sensed a dark presence…

A red lightsaber beam lit up the darkness by a corner. "I've been waiting for you, Obi Wan. The circle is now complete." The Dark Lord of the Sith stepped out into the light. "When I left you, I was but the learner. Now, _I_ am the Master." Obi Wan had long since drawn and activated his lightsaber, its blue glow partially dispelling the red of the other's.

This meeting could have only one outcome.

"You are only a master of evil, Darth." And with that, they clashed.

Obi Wan had to give his adversary credit. His skills, both in combat and in the Force, had improved greatly. He could feel Darth Vader extending his senses, trying to determine what Ben's next move would be, just as he was. He could also feel Vader's deliberate "scrambling" of his own future moves, in order to throw him off, catch him off-guard. He responded in kind.

He knew better than to try to influence Darth Vader's mind, as he had back on Tatooine, with the storm troopers. Vader's mind was far too strong. Just as Vader knew better than to try his Force choke.

Besides, this was a matter than could only be settled by combat. This was personal.

….

"No, Gar, I've got to get out. I can scramble their sensors…."

"...But you can't scramble their _eyes_ , Rae! And with the others gone…"

"That is why I must get out. There is something about being confined in here that inhibits my powers-a purely psychological thing, perhaps, but real, nonetheless-and only if I am on the outside of this craft, can I contact them, mind-to-mind. And I must. We all have to leave this place _immediately._ "

…

Detention Center: the one calling himself Darth Asmodeus had found a set of shackles that fit Kory. He turned and adjusted the settings knob.

"Huh. I didn't know they had that setting," said Vanderk.

"It's not standard knowledge. But this will suppress her consciousness for the time it is active. Now." He turned to the other two. "There is a matter we must discuss, regarding her."

"Er, what?" Already Vanderk was nervous. But Marek just nodded, as though expecting this.

Asmodeus turned his full attention on him. "Private, you surely see the problems carrying her around will cause. It will take at least one of us, working on a constant basis, to transport her from place to place. Or did you think you could just stash her away somewhere? You know," he glanced back at the quiescent Starfire, "she'll need...tending. Water. Food, depending on how long she remains in this condition. And, although I don't know about her biology, she'll need...well, let's just say, _hygiene care_ every so often." He looked back at Vanderk. "Actually, the kindest, best thing you could do for her, at this point, is to put her back in lockup. At least there, the guards would have the responsibility of seeing to her needs, lest they incur my Master's wrath; you, on the other hand, will have your hands full just surviving on this station, and eluding capture…" He saw the look on Vanderk's face.

"No," said Vanderk, "It's my fault she's alive. It's my fault she's in this, this condition. Maybe, maybe if I'd, I'd told her, done something, sooner… I, I feel responsible for her." He straightened up, somehow, without moving from his kneeling position. Marek and Asmodeus exchanged brief glances. Well, the boy had decided his fate.

"You'll have to be responsible, then, for her upkeep, at least until you can find her friends. And, considering the size of this station, that might take a while."

At which exact point, alarms began whooping in the corridor. Asmodeus looked up. "Or," he continued, "It might not, at that."

 _To be continued…_


	12. Chapter 12: Escape

Teen Titans / Star Wars crossover: Chapter 12: Escape

…

 _I don't own either of these franchises. Of course._

…

Chapter 12: Escape

The command center: the smoke had barely cleared, when one of the undamaged consoles beeped: incoming message. Han answered it. _"Who is this?"_

"Uh, uh, everything is under control. Situation normal."

" _What happened?"_

"Had a slight weapon malfunction, but uh, um, everything is perfectly alright now. We're fine, We're all fine here now, thank you. How, how are you?"

" _We're sending a squad up."_

"Uh, uh, negative, negative. We had a reactor leak here now. Give us a few minutes to lock it down. Large leak... very dangerous."

" _Who is this? What's your operating number?"_ In response Han blasted the comlink, causing it to explode.

"Boring conversation anyways… LUKE!" he shouted into his comm unit, "WE'RE GOING TO HAVE COMPANY!"

The other side of the detention center: "Thought your little metal buddy said this place was unmanned!" shouted Cyborg at 3PO.

"He says it was, as of five _minutes_ ago!"

'Yeah, well, a fat lot of good that does us now!" He unleashed a flurry of concussion bolts, many of which found their mark. But for every trooper who fell, two more seemed to take his place.

Suddenly, another series of blaster bolts shot past them from behind, targeting the stormtroopers. "Did you get my message?" yelled Han, as they took up positions alongside Luke and Robin.

"Which one was that?"

"About trouble coming!"

"I think we got the message," murmured Robin, under his breath, looking down the hallway at the approaching stormtroopers.

"We've gotta find where the princess is being held!" shouted Luke

"You mean, _you_ gotta find!" Han shouted back. "Right now, I'd say survival is more important!"

Off to the side, Cyborg and Robin were behind their own corner. "I hate to admit it, but Han has a point," said Robin. "Cy? Any chance your sonic cannon can clear these guys away long enough for us to do our business?"

"I can try, Rob." So saying, he readied his arm, the limb reconfiguring itself into the cannon. He dodged up to where Han and Luke were. "Everybody, cover your ears!" And he sent one carefully focused blast down the corridor.

But even focused, the sonic beam diverged, hitting the sides of the corridor, and reverberating down the corridor. Some small parts of it were reflected back at the heroes. Fortunately, their "borrowed" armor proved good enough to keep the worst effects from them.

They looked. The corridor was strewed with quiescent white-armored forms, none of which seemed to be moving. Robin hoped they were only unconscious, but given the nature of things, he couldn't allow himself to be sidetracked. "Come on!"

"Hey, who died and left you in charge?" But Han followed, mostly because he had no better idea. It just grated on his nerves to be taking orders from a kid like this.

The quartet, followed by the two droids, made their way past the downed troopers. "Here," said Luke, reading the signs over the door, "This is where she should be. Wait out here," he told the others, "If we all crowd in there, she's sure to panic. I'll go get her and bring her out."

"Right, kid. _You_ go into the small, enclosed place that's _probably_ booby trapped. We'll wait out here for you." Han's cynical nature was irrepressible.

Luke zipped into the small cell. There was a girl, wearing the long robe he'd seen in the holo, lying on a low couch. She looked up at his entry, a puzzled expression on her face. "Aren't you a little short for a Stormtrooper?"

Wha-* Oh! Right! He ripped off his helmet. "I'm—*" A shout from outside, as Robin's voice carried over a new flurry of gunshots. _"Luke! Get the girl and get out of there! Now!"_ "I'm, uh," he started to say, "I'm Luke," but it occurred to him she wouldn't know Luke Skywalker from a hole in the ground. "I'm, uh, here with Ben—*" He gestured towards the open cell door, intending to help her out of it.

"Ben? Ben's here?" The girl rushed up off the couch and climbed out of the doorway. She stuck her head out into the corridor, and only barely pulled it back in time, as a blaster bolt sizzled past her. "Dammit! I _told_ those damned imperials to watch the hair!" She climbed out into the corridor, with Luke following her.

Once out, she took cover as blaster bolts sizzled around her. "Where's Obi-Wan? Where's Ben?" She happened to be closest to Cyborg, and addressed him calmly (well, as calmly as anyone could, given the circumstances), not put off by his metallic appearance.

He glanced at her, while readying another sonic blast down the corridor. "He went to see if he could sabotage the tractor beam that's holding us here!" But her attention was diverted to a short, squat figure hiding in the shadows.

" _I don't believe you guys! I go to all the trouble of_ — _* Never mind."_ She grabbed a gun from a fallen Stormtrooper, checked the charge, and said a word that made Luke blush. "Dammit, dammit, dammit." She turned to the others in fury. " _This_ was your plan? Blast your way in and blast your way out? None of you saw anything _lacking,_ shall we say, about that?"

Han kept on firing. "We wouldn't _be_ here at all, except we were trying to rescue a _certain royal pain in the ass._ Now, if you've got any better ideas? I don't think these guys even know how to spell 'surrender.'"

She cast about. Luke and Robin both marveled at her composure. Even in the midst of a firefight, this young woman was by no means distracted. "Here!" She pointed her liberated gun at a grating, blasting it off. "Down here!"

"Hey, I don't recall taking orders from you, oh miss high and mighty princess! I take orders from only one person: _me._ "

"Fine," she said, already slipping into the blasted gate. "You stay up here and follow all your orders you want." Robin just gave Han an amused look, as he and Cyborg followed the girl.

More firing. "Yeah, yeah, make it all _my_ fault," muttered Han, returning fire. "Chewie! Get going! I'll hold 'em off as long as I can!" The Wookie dived into the chute.

Han waited a moment, then plucked a grenade he'd found on a trooper off his belt. In his long and illustrious life, he'd learned a thing or two about grenades. They could be really useful little bastards.

He pulled the pin, and rolled it down the corridor…

….

The group found themselves in a dark pit. It seemed to consist of a great deal of junk, with some liquid waste thrown in. It stank to the highest stars. "Uh oh," said Han, "I gotta baaaaaaad feeling about this…"

"It's a garbage chute," insisted Leia, unnecessarily. "Garbage usually isn't heavily guarded; we should be able to find our way out from here easier." She turned back to Luke. "You said you were with Ben? Where is he?"

"He said something about trying to destroy the tractor beam mechanism that pulled us in here."

"But he's here? Did he get my message?"

"About him being your only hope? Yeah."

"Not _that_ message, vacuum-brain! The _real_ message!" She glanced at the R2 unit, "standing," along with C3PO, along one wall. "Oh, _please_ tell me you got this droid to the Rebellion before bringing him here?"

Luke's own temper was beginning to show. "Look, uh, Your Highness, but we've been pretty much fighting for our lives ever since these droids came into 'em. I don't know anything about any other message, and if Ben does, he didn't tell me! So quit with the attitude!"

"People, people," soothed Robin, "Look. We find ourselves kinda thrown together here. Now," and here he turned a look on Leia that she turned away from, "whatever's gone down in the past...well, it's in the past. What we have to work on is the future. And, personally, I want my future to include getting someplace less smelly?" He smiled. "So let's work on it from that angle for right now, 'kay?"

"Uh, Rob? We, uh, we may have a bit of a problem here…

…..

Elsewhere on the Battlestation: "I believe it's safe to say your friends are behind those alarms. If so, knowing my Master, the first thing he'll do is secure all exits and entranceways." He turned to Marek. "You say you came in a ship?"

"Yeah. Don't know if it'll hold all these people, though."

"Then another is called for." He stopped, and closed his eyes, feeling about with senses Vanderk knew he'd never understand. "And one may be rather close. But…

"...it is right at the epicenter of the dark Power I sense."

….

The young man known as Darth Asmodeus looked up, as though to see through the walls and ceiling. "Yes, My Master is sending troops to that very area, to secure the ship."

"He's already sending troops?" said Marek. "So why even bother going there? The place'll be swarming with Imps."

"Maybe not. Now, listen closely, for I will not repeat myself…."

…

"A _trash compactor?! We're in a TRASH COMPACTOR?!"_

"Y-yes, Master Han, it seems we...fell into one of the main recycling centers for the station."

"Hokay, everyone." They all looked up at him. The footing was treacherous, and Luke could have sworn he felt something brush past him. "We're here. How do we get out?"

Nobody looked like they had any ideas. After all, garbage collection machines and devices weren't designed so garbage could get _out._ It was generally considered a one-way trip.

And just as that thought crossed his mind, the walls began to move…

…..

"Rae, this is a _really dumb idea,_ you know that, don't you?" Raven and Beast Boy had oozed out of the shadows of the Millennium Falcon and were currently in the cockpit, looking out. Even with no lights on inside, Beast Boy still fretted. "I mean, we're _right out here._ They can _see_ us."

"Oh, they'll _see_ us _,_ Garfield, but they won't, either. It's really a very simple spell, actually. All it does is make the target simply uninterested in the caster. I've used it, in the past, to walk right past heavily guarded fortresses, and right into the main meeting hall.

"But I _have_ to have some sense of openness, before I can begin to contact the others, know where they are. That power I told you about...it's making it hard for me to focus. Now shush. I have to concentrate."

…..

"Alright, your ship is right ahead," said Asmodeus, pointing. "Just follow that shaft to that corridor _—_ I can sense it's unoccupied _—_ and into the hanger deck. Once there, get into the ship."

"Oh, right. We're supposed to march right out there, in broad open space, carrying her," and he gestured at the still somnolent Starfire, whom Vanderk had slung over his shoulder, "and just expect the guards at the control tower to _just let us go?_ Tell me again how this is a good idea." Marek was still fingering the hilt of his lightsaber.

But Asmodeus had pulled a small, tablet-like device from his pocket. "The guards," he said, in a distracted voice, "are about to have enough to worry about without bothering with you three. But...timing will be crucial. You!" He addressed Vanderk. "Think you can run that distance carrying her? Maybe dodging blaster bolts?"

"Yes, sir. If not, I'll die trying."

Asmodeus looked amused. "Still calling me 'sir,' even while committing a treasonous act?"

Vanderk drew himself up as much as he could, in the cramped space. "You are an officer in the Empire I still serve, sir. As such, I accord you the respect you are due."

Asmodeus stared at him for a moment. "You know, you _really believe_ that, don't you?" Vanderk said nothing. "Tell you what. After all this is over, look me up. I've some plans I'd like you to be a part of. If you survive, that is. But I suppose that's a given." So saying, he left them, turning a corner as silent as a shadow.

Asmodeus sighed quietly as his eyes flashed sulphuric red beneath their normal brown under his fury before returning back to brown. The young Dark Lord continued down the hallway as he tried to push down his rising irritation.

…..

Earlier: "A _trash compactor?!_ This is your idea of an escape, 'your highness'?" The sarcastic inflection in his voice was obvious.

"It beats where we were! Now all we have to do is find the exit." So saying, she began looking around. Luke looked at Han and shrugged, joining her in her search, as did Chewbacca. Han shook his head. "Damn amateurs. Now look what they've got us into." Then he too began to look.

"Uh, Master Han? Master Luke?" In the confusion, they'd forgotten about the two droids, who'd been dumped in with them.

"Not now! We've gotta find the way out before _—_ *" And just as if on cue, they heard a massive groaning of stressed metal, and saw the walls of the disposal unit begin to move inwards…

"Hey!" shouted Han, over the noise, addressing the droids. "Where's the exit for this place?"

"That's what I was trying to tell you, Master Han! There isn't one!"

…..

"I don't get it. We're supposed to make a mad dash across that open space? Kid, where'd you find this guy?"

"Me?! I didn't find him, he found me! Or rather, us.

…..

A few minutes earlier: "Oh, I just _knew_ this was the way I'd end my days!" moaned C3PO. "Smashed together with a pile of organic refuse…"

"Does his mouth have an 'off' switch?" asked Han, even as he and Chewie were rummaging around, trying to find something, anything, to slow down the impending doom. Cyborg had already braced himself. Grim, and nearly deadly, experience had shown them that neither blaster bolts nor sonic cannons had any effect on the inward-moving walls.

All of a sudden, the compacting walls stopped. "Whu?" said Han. "What happened there?"

"Don't know, don't care," shouted Robin. "There's bound to be a way out of this-* And at that very moment, an overhead hatch screeched noisily and slid aside. The heroes stared in amazement. Then, to add to their surprise, two plastoid ropes emerged from the darkness of the upper level, uncoiling down towards them.

"You know," said Han in a quiet, almost awed voice, "I would say somebody up there likes us, but that's kinda cliché…"

"Stuff your cliché!" shouted Leia, already climbing up the rope. "Just _climb!_ "

"Hey, what about R2?" shouted Robin. "He can't climb!" The little droid beeped and booped dismally.

"Hey, no prob, Rob. Got it all figured out," said Cyborg. As the others were climbing up to safety (?), he'd wrapped the end of one especially long cable around both him and R2, and began climbing upward…

….

Back at the darkened corridor, in the hidden alcove Darth Asmodeus had led them to, Vanderk and Marek were conferring. Marek was clearly nervous, but Vanderk seemed completely calm. "Kid, do you really have that much faith in that Sith? They're not trustworthy; I know. I once was one. Power and revenge is their only goal."

"Then," replied the renegade Stormtrooper, "don't you think helping us must therefore somehow be in his interests? After, it's like he said: He didn't _have_ to do anything. Sooner or later, we'd have been caught, and we couldn't fight off every soldier on this station, not to mention Lord Vader."

Still Marek fretted. "'S gotta be a trap…"

"Pretty damn obvious trap," said Vanderk. "Running across open ground like that? Hell, I could do better than that." Marek glared at him. "Besides," he gestured with his chin at the still-sleeping Starfire, slung over his shoulder, "I'm getting a cramp."

…

A darkened corridor, seven figures conferred. "Okay, where are we?"

"Dunno. Hey, princess! Any _more_ bright ideas? Like maybe hiding in the barrel of that superlaser?"

"There's no time for that," said Robin. The others, even Han and Leia, had come to respect his authority. "R2! Any way you can direct us to the ship?"

More squawks and beepings. Then the little droid mated an extension with a nearby port. One brief boop. Then he projected a 3D map into the air in front of them. One single blinking dot showed them where they were. A line showed them the way to the hanger deck where Han's ship was. "Okay, I'd say that's pretty much got it."

"Hey, Rob," said Cyborg, "didn't you come here looking for Starfire?"

"I will...as soon as I get the rest of you to safety. If our timing is correct, Ben should have disabled that tractor beam by now. Once I get the rest of you in the ship, and off, I'll go back and look for her."

"What! Rob, that's suicide! You can't take on the whole station!"

"Maybe I won't have to. If I can just find her, I can squeeze the both of us into one of those-what are they called?-TIE fighters. We'll meet you out there." _Or we won't, one of the two._

 _But we'll be together._

But one thing was certain, and Cyborg knew it: Robin was not leaving without Starfire. And he knew better than to argue the point.

….

"So now what was this sign we were supposed to be waiting for?"

Vanderk shrugged. "He said we'd know.

Marek shook his head. "Trusting the word of a Sith Lo-*" And at that exact moment, the plastoid glass over the con tower shattered into a million pieces."

"And there it is!" shouted Vanderk. He didn't have to say it twice; Galen Marek was already in motion, moving towards the _Millennium Falcon_. He'd have to retrieve his own ship later. Right now, that was the least of his worries

The two dashed across the open space. Over to one side, they caught a glimpse of lightsabers in action, but couldn't afford to be distracted. Already, the officers in charge had summoned Stormtroopers, via their personal communicators.

At the same time, another group emerged from the shadows, also racing towards the _Falcon_. Robin started to fire on them, when he recognized the one the Stormtrooper was carrying over his shoulder. He lowered his blaster, but kept it ready. "Ah, I believe we have something to talk about," he shouted over the commotion.

"If you know the owner of this butt," shouted Vanderk back, "we certainly do!"

"Everybody, in!" Raven emerged from the ship. "I can shield us from their sensors!" _At least, I hope I can._ She was acutely aware of not being at her full strength.

Great doors began to open, and Stormtroopers began to pour through, already firing their weapons. Robin stood his ground, and fired back-but taking careful aim. He was remembering a bit of wisdom from the gunfighters of the Old West: it wasn't always the fastest gun than decided the day, as it was the one whom its wielder had taken the time to aim properly. That did not prevent him from dodging, however, and seeking cover when available.

Luke also emerged, firing his own blaster. "Get down, you idiot! We don't have to take them all on, just enough to get free from here!" Robin shouted.

"I'm not going anywhere without Ben!"

"Then you may not be going anywhere! Look, Ben went to sabotage the tractor beam. If you wait 'till they repair it…"

But then their attention was drawn to another entranceway, and the glow of lightsabers, one red and one blue. "There he is! Now come on! Get inside! I'll-* But what Robin was intending to do would remain a mystery. As they watched, Ben raised his saber in a kind of salute, and the dark figure's lightsaber cleaved through the air where he'd been.

"Ben, _no!_ " Luke began firing wildly at the dark presence, who did not seem the least intimidated by the blaster bolts whizzing past him. Indeed, he turned towards Luke's group.

The deck plates trembled.

At first, Darth Vader thought there must be some problem with the drive system, or perhaps with the artificial gravity. Then he saw the dark girl in blue...and the blackness, the powers that were swirling around her.

So _this_ was the presence both he and his apprentice had sensed? Truly she was a formidable foe. She'd make an admirable ally, if he could just contain her...he sent out a Force-choke towards her.

For a brief moment, the girl looked surprised. But then her rage reasserted itself...and the Force around her neck literally _exploded_ outward.

Vader was impressed. He'd never heard of anyone-*

Something black hit him with the force of a runaway comet.

Vader was driven back into the bulkhead, the Power reaching into his cybernetic systems, shorting many of them out. He struggled to regain his feet...and realized something.

For some reason, the girl wasn't even using her full strength.

She snarled, and directed her power into the floor beneath him. It rolled up like a scroll, wrapping Vader securely. He struggled to use his command of the Force, and was able to get free...only to find himself dodging machinery from the hanger deck. Some he was able to deflect with the Force, some with his lightsaber. But she was throwing so many of them, it was only a matter of time before one or more connected. And he could tell, from the force with which the others were being hurled, that he couldn't take very many of them in his weakened condition.

Much more of this, and they'd compromise the Emperor's prized battle station. That simply could not be allowed to happen. There was only one thing to do. "Captain!" he shouted over the general comm wavelength, "Withdraw all troops! And then, _open the hanger bay!"_

"S-sir?"

"Do not question me! _Just do it!"_

On the main comm: "All troops! Double time it to the nearest entrance! _"_

"Raven!" Robin shouted, noticing the troops' withdrawal. "Come on! They're planning something!"

"So am I," Raven growled, her will rock solid in her voice. " _He will pay."_

That's when Robin slugged her.

Taken completely by surprise, Raven's eyes rolled up into the top of her head, and she slumped down into Robin's arms. He effortlessly picked her up, and ran up the steps to the _Falcon._

Han was already closing up the hatchways, and had prewarmed the engines...when the hanger bay doors suddenly opened, and the _Falcon,_ along with a number of TIE fighters that hadn't been securely fastened down, as well as a few Stormtroopers who'd been too slow in retreating, was blown out into the eternal night of space.

 _To be continued…_


End file.
